‘Make sure you talk to Mary about the expenses. What had he heard?’
‘It’s difficult to get. Only to trusted vendors and he’s not that trusted. He heard it got used as a date-rape drug too. He’s a scummy little individual, but he’s got boundaries and that’s one of them.’
‘Good to know.’ She paused, thinking. ‘I’m not sure what else to try before Leo or Billie come up with something. We have very little to go on.’
‘I’ve got nothing. You’re right, we know almost nothing about this stuff. Normally I’d suggest checking known suppliers, but I think Billie’s right about it being a limited supply deal. How did it go in there?’ He waved generally at the hospital building.
‘Oh, the administrator was pissy about the “disruption to normal hospital operations.” I told him to take it up with the Commissioner if he has concerns. And good luck to him with that.’
‘So what now?’
‘You go back to Winthrop and learn more about vampires. You still have plenty to learn and we’ve got nothing more to go on. Let’s hope we get something soon. I have a bad feeling about this stuff.’
16th January.
Lionel Crabbitz liked to describe himself as a sybarite because he had heard the word once and thought it sounded cool. He also liked people to call him ‘Cat,’ though there were relatively few who did. Sybarite sounded like something sophisticated and Lionel was not a sophisticated man, but he did like to think of himself as such. He liked the finer things in life. But he could rarely afford them so discovering the Black Candle and gifting vampires had been a really big thing.
There were some issues. Like Lionel liked a little weed now and then. He really quite liked cocaine, but it cost too much for a man barely getting by on his wages from stacking shelves at a supermarket after hours. If the folks at the Candle found out about the drugs, he would be locked out, so the weed had had to go.
Vampires were better anyway. He always put down for optional intercourse, heterosexual only. He didn’t get some sweet-looking vampire chick every time he went, and sometimes even the lookers did not want to fuck, but when it all came together, Lionel got to ride the high and get his rocks off all in one go, and then he really felt like a sybarite.
He knelt in room nine wondering what he would get today and thanking God that his friend had been right about the stuff he had taken the night before. ‘New stuff,’ the guy had said. ‘No way anyone can detect it and it makes you feel like a god.’ And it had, for over an hour. He had felt pumped up, high, horny, and he had known he could take on the world. And then he had felt like throwing up and decided that he would never take the stuff again. Except it was real cheap…
Lucille Maynard opened the door to room nine and stepped inside, wondering what she was going to get today. As vampires went, Lucille was a quiet one. She did mathematics tutoring for kids and adults with learning difficulties, and occasionally to bright kids who needed more than the schools provided. She kept herself to herself a lot, but she enjoyed helping out at the local church when there was some fundraising effort going, even though she was not really religious. Neither her clients nor the parishioners knew what she did once a month at the Candle, however. Possessed of naturally lush, vibrantly black hair and quite full lips, Lucille could add deep red lipstick, some eye liner, and a bit of corsetry, and she became just a perfect Gothic vampire. So once a month, because she had to do it anyway, she dressed up, went down to the Candle, and played at being a real vampire for fifteen minutes.
Today’s supplicant was not what she might have hoped for. He was thin, his chin showed patches of stubble where he had failed to shave properly, and the thin, badly cut, brightly coppery hair was not a turn-on, but you got what you were given, that was the deal. Maybe next month she would get something a bit more hunky; well, she could live in hope.
‘You may refer to me,’ Lucille said as she shut the door behind her and the locks engaged, ‘as Mistress.’
Lionel thought his ship had come in. Maybe she was a little wider in the hips than he really liked, but the outfit really worked for her and she had a really pretty face, and… He had a momentary vision of those red lips wrapped around his cock, which he had to put aside, because it was not going to happen. ‘I’m Cat,’ he said.
Lucille thought there was probably no man less cat-like than the one kneeling on the sheet. Bony knees, not attractive, but you got what you got. Oh well. The hard-on he was rapidly developing was of adequate size, so maybe this was salvageable. She reached to her waist and undid the ribbon that held her skirt in place. Beneath it, her stockings were suspended from her boned, black corset. She did not wear panties to the Candle because it was an extra little thrill. Her black pubic hair was carefully trimmed into a downward-pointing triangle for the occasion. She dumped her skirt into the box and said, ‘Lie down, Cat,’ in as firm a voice as she could manage.
Lionel stretched out on the sheet. You had to make certain allowances for vampire chicks. Lionel was a man who liked to be on top, but with vampires that was awkward. She needed to be on top so that she could sink her fangs in and control the motion. The rewards were worth it. He had hoped to get his hands on those big tits he could see bulging out of the corset, but it looked like she was keeping that on, which was different, and kind of erotic. He got harder and waited for her to make her move.
Stepping over Cat’s hips, Lucille looked down at him. She had the routine pretty much down now, but for this one, she was going to speed it up a little. He did not look like he would appreciate her entire repertoire. Still, she paused and ran her tongue over her painted lips, trying to get the smoulder going in her blue eyes. That was probably not worth it either given that he looked like he was ready to pop already. She lowered herself to her knees and, sure enough, felt the length of him against her, hard as rock. Well, that was something. She leaned forward, placing her right hand on the sheet beside his shoulder and bringing her head down to the side of his. ‘Turn your head,’ she whispered, ‘and I’ll make you feel… wonderful.’
Lionel managed to get into character enough to say, ‘Yes, Mistress.’ He turned his head, tilting it back a little to give her better access. He felt her left hand encircle his shaft, guiding him to her entrance. Oh, this one knew her stuff. In one, fluid movement, she pushed her hips down, impaling herself, and drove her fangs in, impaling him. The usual spike of pain was drowned out by the pleasure rising up from his cock and Lionel let out a gasp of pleasure. This was sybaritic!
Her hips began to work, stroking up and down. His grunts of pleasure filled the room and the sensation of sheer ecstatic bliss was like nothing he had ever felt before. He came after only a few seconds, and was vaguely aware that she was not stopping, and he did not care in the least. He did not hear the annoyed growls coming from her throat or feel the way her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung on, frantically working her hips.
Lionel Crabbitz sank into the blackness of death on a high so profound he might have described it as the ultimate in sybaritic experiences, if he had survived to make comment.
~~~
‘Who is she?’ Dione asked, her eyes on the monitors. Two of the screens showed Lucille alternately rushing at the door to smash her bloodied fists against it, and then returning to the mess on the sheet to lap at the blood which covered it.
‘Lucille,’ Pat replied. ‘Lucille Maynard. Carpathian. About fifteen years dead. She’s a maths tutor from Belmont.’
‘That’s not natural,’ Mike said. He was watching the monitors too. ‘I mean, natural takes on a new meaning these days, but she’s more like an animal.’
‘Transylvanians can get like that,’ Pat said. ‘You met one, right? They call it the “Transylvanian Madness.” They can bring on this super-strong state, but if they use it and wig out, they act like that.’
‘More or less,’ Dione said. ‘Mike’s right, she really looks like her brain just… fried. And she’s a carpathian and they don’t freak out like this.’
> ‘Could be something new. A new subspecies and we didn’t notice it.’
‘Unlikely. Possible, but unlikely. Tony, could you replay the recording. I want to see how this started.’
Tony shifted his chair to a control panel at the side and began tapping at a keyboard. ‘I don’t think it’s going to tell you much. It all looked pretty normal until she went ape-shit.’
Mike leaned a little closer to Pat. ‘Uh, could I get a selection of those recordings, the normal ones, to go? Leanne’s really fascinated by this whole vampire thing. I told her about supplicants and this place…’
‘Bring her down one day,’ Pat said. ‘You’ve spent a while in here. You know what’s normal. You could give Tony a break and watch vampire porn together.’
‘Uh, I guess that would–’
‘No fucking in the control room though.’
Mike’s cheeks flamed and, thankfully, Tony cued up the video at that point. ‘I’ll talk to her about it,’ Mike said and then made a show of watching the screen.
‘Does she normally dress up like the Bride of Dracula?’ Dione asked.
‘You’re one to talk,’ Pat commented, ‘but yes, she does. She’s pretty modern, so this is her little moment of being a vampire when her life is just plain ordinary otherwise.’
‘That corset does amazing things to her chest,’ Mike said.
‘That is what corsets do,’ Dione told him. ‘And the waist, of course. But I don’t know how humans wear them. Torture instruments if done up properly.’
‘So everything goes as normal,’ Tony interjected, ‘but she just seems to… go nuts. You can see he’s come, but she just keeps on going, sucking blood all the while. And then she gets frustrated when he dies and goes soft on her and…’
‘Shit,’ Mike said on a long breath out.
On screen, the sedate maths tutor was tearing at her supplicant’s throat like a wild beast. When she turned around, Tony stopped the video. ‘If you want to watch the rest, I’m leaving the room. She starts on his genitals next and even an undead man has a limit on the number of times he wants to see someone’s dick chewed off.’
‘I think we can do without,’ Dione said.
‘Good,’ Pat muttered. ‘I nearly threw up when I watched it.’
‘Okay, well… You’ve got your shotgun, Mike?’
Mike lifted the weapon. ‘One in the chamber, ready to go.’
‘Good. All the other rooms have been cleared?’
‘I saw to it myself,’ Pat told her.
Dione nodded. ‘Mike, you’re backup. You position at the end of the corridor. If she gets past me, you blow her apart. Since I think Winthrop would like her in fewer pieces, I’ll go in first. Tony, you unlock the door when I get there.’
‘Understood,’ Tony confirmed.
Dione slid her coat from her shoulders and handed it to Pat. Beneath it, she was wearing a black, one-piece suit, the torso armoured with the same scale construction as Mike’s vest. Picking up her katana, she slid the blade free of its scabbard. ‘Let’s do this.’
Mike stopped at the head of the corridor, readying his weapon, and Dione continued down to room nine. There was the clunk of the locking bolts retracting and Dione kicked the door in. Lucille was flying at it in an instant, but Dione had expected that. Stepping back and sideways, Dione swung the blade in an arc. Lucille’s body continued on to slam into the opposite doorway while her head somersaulted in the air and then fell to the floor.
‘I feel kind of superfluous,’ Mike said and then raised a hand. ‘I’m also fine with that. You can take on the raging lunatics any time you want.’
Pat and Tony emerged to flank Mike, looking down at the decapitated body and Dione standing over it.
Dione sniffed. ‘She smells carpathian, Pat. There goes that idea. Winthrop’s on his way. I’m afraid you’re going to have to shut down for a while. Probably the rest of the day.’
‘I’ll need to get the place cleaned up anyway,’ Pat replied.
Dione nodded, but she was still casting about. ‘There’s something wrong with the scents, though.’
Frowning, Pat walked closer, sniffing as she went. She stopped. ‘There’s too much decay in it. Vampires shouldn’t smell like that.’
‘And he smells almost too much like a vampire. His blood anyway. Make sure the cleaners are fully protected. Winthrop can get you hazmat suits. There’s something bad going on here. We need to get a history on this guy. What was his name?’
‘Uh… Lionel Crabbitz. I think we have an address on record.’
‘Mike, get the address and get Mary on that.’
Mike looked down the hallway at her. ‘You think this is related to that Apollo stuff,’ he said.
Dione started back toward him. ‘Barely my partner for a couple of months and already you know me.’
~~~
‘Lionel Crabbitz,’ Mary read from her monitor, ‘aged thirty-two, looks older. Three arrests for possession. Two for marijuana, one for cocaine. He did two months inside for the latter. That was three years ago. Nothing since, so he may have cleaned up.’
‘Tony said he started going to the Candle about that time,’ Mike said. ‘I think he just found a different way of getting high. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try something new.’
‘Is that the cynicism so common in cops regarding recidivism rates?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Must be catching then. Of course, I started out life watching people kill themselves with gin, so I had a head start on you.’
‘Uh, yeah. I hope you don’t mind… Leanne told me about… You know?’
‘My tragic story? No, I don’t mind you knowing. I’d have got around to telling you myself and I more or less expected her to tell you. If you think this means I won’t headshot you online first chance I get, think again.’
Mike grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll get you this time.’
‘Huh, yeah. Like that’s going to happen. Go tell Dione about Crabbitz. I’m sure Winthrop’s solved the case anyway.’
Still grinning, Mike walked around to Winthrop’s lab to find Dione sitting in a chair watching the old man busily working at various machines. ‘Crabbitz was a drug user,’ Mike said. ‘Couple of arrests for possession. He could have tried Apollo, but there’s no actual evidence of him using in the last three years.’
‘The lack of evidence continues,’ Dione replied.
‘This is true,’ Winthrop said. ‘I can find no evidence of anything like a drug in any of the samples from the Candle. There are some unusual aspects to the chemistry, however. I continue to work.’
‘Did you figure out why Lucille went off the reservation?’ Mike asked.
‘The direct cause was necrosis. Her prefrontal lobe was severely atrophied and this includes the part of the brain responsible for impulse control. Her critical ability was severely impaired along with a number of other higher brain functions.’
‘I thought the virus prevented necrosis.’
‘I see that my attempts to educate you have not fallen upon infertile ground. The issue here is not what caused Lucille’s derangement, but what precipitated the injury and, it would seem, in a quite rapid manner.’ Winthrop looked across at some device as it pinged. ‘There is similar evidence of necrosis in other organs, though her body was repairing much of the damage at this point.’
‘Once her live blood ran out, that would stop,’ Dione said.
‘And she would begin to degrade. Whatever the process was, it stopped when you killed her. It’s quite possible that, if you had not cut off her head, we would be left with a pile of decomposition products and a skeleton.’
‘It sounds like a disease,’ Mike said, ‘but there are no known diseases that affect vampires.’
‘No known disease, yes. Which is why we need to isolate whatever is causing this quickly before it becomes an epidemic.’
17th January.
Anne Trudo was feeling buoyant. It was Saturday night, she was dressed to the nines, and she w
as in a club with pretty good music. Being a vampire put a bit of a damper on one aspect of clubbing: the alcohol in the drinks she was buying had no effect on her. But the atmosphere did and it had always been the atmosphere Anne liked, ever since the twenties when she had gone to speakeasies rather than nightclubs.
Leaning against the bar, watching the dancers on the floor and the people trying to have conversations at the tables: this was what life should be like. Nine-to-five jobs were a pain in the ass, but they did let you pay for the best bit of the week. She turned and picked up her drink, and the man in the open-collared, silk shirt who was sitting on a stool to her right smiled at her. It was a knowing kind of smile which made her suspect, briefly, that he had spiked her drink with something. Well, he was in for a great deal of disappointment if that was the case: drugs did nothing to vampires either. She sank the gin and lime in one go, and smiled back before turning to watch the dancers.
The sudden pain in her head almost doubled her over. The smiling man reached out to catch her, grabbing her left breast in the process. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked in a solicitous tone. ‘Maybe we should get you some air.’ The prick had spiked her drink, but what the Hell could he have done it with to cause this?
Anger flared in Anne Trudo’s decaying brain, rapidly turning to bestial fury. Her would-be ‘saviour’ barely understood what was happening to him as she sank her fangs into his neck and ripped out his throat.
~~~
The nightclub was called Shady’s and it looked like any of a number of nightclubs in Midtown. It seemed to have gone for a black-glass-and-chrome design, which possibly befitted its name, but right now the colour scheme was marred by the flashing lights of patrol cars forming a blockade around the entrance.
Dione and Mike watched the general chaos from behind the blockade along with the sergeant who had been pulled in to coordinate the event on-scene.
‘We got out anyone injured,’ the sergeant was saying, ‘but we know she killed at least three people before they got the place cleared, and she took out one of my officers when they were backing out with a wounded victim. The others swear she was hit, but just kept coming. I’ve seen PCP users who could take bullets, but this one’s on something wilder than that.’
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