“Pierre, I can grant your peace. But to do that I must first find Gabrielle and Celine. Can you help me?”
“I do not know where they live, only where they prowl,” he offered. “South Beach, they stalk their victims, and there is no defense for their powers of seduction. My lust for Celine far outweighs my loathing of her.”
Instinctively, I knew what needed to be done with Pierre. He only needed to be removed from Celine and Gabrielle’s reach for a short period of time. They were feeding on him, but not to the death. In turn, he was ingesting their blood.
“Rest now, Pierre,” I commanded. He closed his eyes, and drifted into a deep sleep. Tomorrow, I would have Phillip make arrangements to have Pierre transferred to another facility, far from Celine’s reach.
I left Jackson Memorial and made the quick trip to South Beach. Having lived in the area for months, I knew all of the popular hot spots. Upon arriving, I decided to foot it up Collins Avenue, attempting to pick up their scent. The humid night air was void of any trace, which only meant they were not in close proximity. Unlike the hospital, the warm sea breezes would not allow scents to linger. I headed over to A1A, and strolled past the oceanfront restaurants and bars, my haunts from a life long ago. If they were in South Beach, they would eventually pass these streets.
Lacking any desire to eat, drink, or mingle with humans, I strolled over to the beach. The moon had just risen over the ocean, its reflection bright, rippling in the waves. The picturesque silhouette of the palm trees against the glow of the ascending lunar spectacle created an internal yearning for Sam.
Daniel had been right about more than I initially cared to admit. All of these strange events were interlinked in some unexplainable twist of fate. I no longer believed it was a mere case of accidental lust that opened my eyes to Sam. Her striking resemblance to my mother was not coincidence run amok. I stared off into the distant sky, lost in my musings. And me … the great grandson of Vlad Tepes. I guess somebody had to be. Setting free the very women my father condemned, what kind of odds could possibly justify that? One day … actually one night, Daniel and I would sit and have conversation concerning his spiritual interpretations of all of these supernatural quirks.
I sat under a tree, for what must have been several hours, listening to the rush of some tropical breeze caress the beachfront palms. Tuning out the hubbub of the nearby bars, the melodic symphony of wind and waves soothed my inner spirit. How I yearned for this nightmare to be over. Immortality, at whatever cost, held no appeal. I would prefer to grow old with Sam, knowing my life experiences were not limitless, but that each moment truly mattered.
Lost in thoughts of mixed emotions, I began to return to the realm of my purpose here. Through my own experience of refraining from live blood consumption for months at a time, and not killing any human, thus far, I considered the possibility of converting the remaining vampires into non-lethal beings.
A young couple consumed in passion walked by, oblivious to the danger in such close proximity. With her silhouette against the silver moonlight and the aroma of their arousal, ancient urges began to gnaw. I rolled my head back and gazed at the starlit heavens above. Intoxicated with the euphoria experienced from freeing my instinctive nature, I ignored the call to flee this festering desire.
A short time passed before another couple encroached on my territory. Drunk, and looking for a place to have sex, the scent of the woman’s arousal electrified me. With the instincts of a wolf, unconsciously, I rose and began the stalk.
With so much more than physical attraction at work, I savored the thought of her sweet blood filling my mouth. Like fine wine, blood had its own unique characteristics. Many, but certainly not all, tasted quite pleasing. The permeating redolence of this young woman foretold of an exquisite culinary experience.
Appearing about twenty-five, the tanned blonde was dressed in an exceptionally short white skirt with a black sleeveless blouse. Her hair was silky smooth and cropped unevenly around her shoulders. Her date’s attire, faux biker, screamed off-the-rack Walmart. His shaved head more a cover up for premature balding than badass. The frenzied need to feed was overwhelming, magnified by my increased sexual prowess. There was no earthly addiction to compare to the forces driving me. Not enough to simply have my way with her, feed off of and then kill the pair, deep within my very being, I wanted to belittle and dominate him, before the kill. Completely off the scale of any rational thoughts I had ever possessed, I was not a man, but an animal, starving for food, desperate to establish superiority.
From a short distance, I watched as they took a position on top of the stacked beach chairs, covered and stored for the night. From my position, I studied as their hands explored each other’s bodies. Salivating, I ran my tongue over my fangs. His hands slid up her blouse, as she unbuttoned his pants. The internal forces driving me spurred me forward.
Hastily, she pulled his pants down. Sexual pheromones filled the air fueling my frenzied desires. Out of the corner of their eyes, they both seemed to catch the intruder’s silhouette.
“Hey buddy, how’s about giving us some room?” he asked, surprisingly polite.
Blazingly fast, I jumped on top of the chairs, just above her head. Placing my entire hand over his face and mouth I squeezed with a crushing force until he dropped to the ground. Her eyes pined with a fearful desire. With my free hand, I tore open her blouse. She quivered in anticipation, as I ran my hand over her chest and into her panties. I pulled her face close and kissed her sweet, succulent lips. Her veins rose to my calling as I moved to her neck.
“Take me,” she begged.
After tonight, I knew the fate of the damned would haunt me forever for the murder I was about to commit. There was no choice. I was a vampire, fulfilling the curse of my forefathers. I opened my mouth and set my teeth to her neck. She moaned in aroused anticipation. With the first light puncture of flesh, her blood began to flow, filling my mouth. My eyes were fixed on the distant horizon and with the scrap of humanity left in me, I pleaded, “Please stop me.”
CHAPTER TEN
WITHOUT PROVOCATION OR cause I stopped. Withdrawing my teeth from her flesh, as much as I desired to swallow the succulent blood filling my mouth, I spit it out. Her eyes searched mine, begging me to continue. I laid her down, beside her unconscious friend.
“I am sorry,” I said in a timid voice, shocked by how quickly I had become completely unglued. In the native tongue of my ancestors, I chanted her to sleep.
I staggered away toward the ocean, disgusted by my actions, and fearing this newfound demon. The taste of her fresh blood resonated in my mouth. I was invigorated, with a greater strength than I had ever known … yet I was wounded deeply. Did my love for Sam mean nothing? How did I instantly become completely incapable of controlling these primitive urges? How did I stop, in the midst of the greatest, most intense pleasure I had ever experienced? I fell to my knees at the edge of the surf lost in a myriad of questions.
Before New Orleans, the only faith I possessed was in myself. Obviously, I was way out of my league now. “Okay, you have my undivided attention,” I roared out. “What in the hell am I supposed to do now?” I half expected an answer to thunder from across the vastness of the ocean. But no words came, no burning bush, seaweed … nothing.
Twice since New Orleans, when all strength and discipline failed in the face of defeat, there had been only one unknown saving grace. “Daniel! I hope you are happy,” I called out. If he were here, his shit-eating grin would be the size of Montana.
Suddenly a familiar fragrance drifted across the sands, snapping my neck in the direction of its origin. Celine was nearby. I traveled back to Ocean Drive, passing the unconscious couple only moments before I had terrorized. They would wake in an hour or so, he with a major headache, and she with a rather suspicious wound to her neck. Neither would remember my ill-mannered indiscretion.
Celine’s scent grew stronger as I headed north. Half a block away, she sat at an outdoor table sharing
drinks with two men. Appearing to be of Cuban descent, they were young and buff, one like a mastiff, the other a pit bull. Judging by the abundance of empty glasses on the table, they were looking to get Celine drunk. Having invested their hard-earned money on the effort, my intrusion would not be welcome.
I approached from the left, out of her line of sight. Having learned that vampires could mask their scent, I had practiced with Sam the art of camouflaging my unique aroma. “The city is different, as are the players, but the game remains the same. Does it not Celine?”
Celine turned slowly, as if the sound of my voice created some great discomfort. Recognizing my voice immediately, she feigned a smile of delight. “Why Brian, what on earth brings you to Miami?”
“I would love to say it was just you, Celine, but truth be told, I would love to see Gabrielle as well.”
The more ripped of the two Cuban mutts butted in. “Who is your friend, Celine?”
“Not that it is any of your damn business, but I am her pimp. And judging by your attire, you cannot afford five minutes of her time, Romeo. Celine will be leaving with me now, and you two boys can go down to the beach and jerk each other off.”
“Why don’t you go jerk off, and we’ll see to it she makes it home later?” the other asked.
Never having the patience for this kind of male pissing contest, I was ready to bash their heads together like cymbals. But not wanting to attract too much attention, I decided on diplomacy.
“Gentlemen, the discussion is over. Tell Celine goodnight, or get up off your asses and try to stop me. But be warned, I am in an exceptionally foul mood, and although I will not take any pleasure in it, I will shove these beer bottles up your asses one at a time.” Placing my hands on each of their shoulders, I administered a crushing grip. Wincing in pain, neither attempted to rise.
Peering into their eyes with a deathly gaze, I gripped harder. “What’s it going to be boys, get up, or goodnight?”
“Goodnight,” growled the mastiff.
“Smart choice,” I said, instantly releasing my grip. I grabbed Celine by the elbow forcing her from her chair. Her resistance was minimal as I led her away.
Celine smirked as I escorted her across the street, back to the beach, where we would have slightly more privacy. “I am quite capable of walking on my own,” she exerted, as she yanked her arm from my grasp. “I am very surprised to find you are still alive, Brian. Tell me, where is Monique?”
“Monique underestimated my resolve. It was a very costly mistake.”
“I see,” Celine replied simply. “And are you here to kill me as well?”
“That depends. I told you in New Orleans you could not remain out here amongst the living.”
“Why should it be for you to decide where I can or cannot exist? Monique was right about men. All you desire is power and domination.”
Her snippy French accent irritated me. “No, Monique was wrong. I could not care less for how you live your life, only I cannot allow you to murder whomever you please. Only by a gross miscalculation did I set you free. But that is the core of my resolve, I must take you back to Daniel, or …”
“I will do whatever I please. There is nobody left to tell me how to live my life. I will not repeat Monique’s mistakes,” Celine proclaimed boldly.
“You already are. This is how I found you. And when they realize,” I said, pointing to the inhabitants of Ocean Drive, “they will hunt you down as well.”
“Oh, so you are doing this because you are concerned for my safety?”
“No Celine, I am doing it because I fucked up, and I will not have you mercilessly killing scores of innocent people.”
“Well, you are too little too late for that,” she sneered, with no apparent concern for the threat I posed.
Her arrogance stiffened my resolve. Her sarcastic French attitude pissed me off. “Well, there you have it. Your fate is sealed.”
Celine stepped back and studied my attire. A thin white T-shirt and tan linen pants offered no camouflage for weapons. “From where I stand, it would appear the only thing for certain is your death. Monique was a fool to toy with you.”
“I do not see Gabrielle, or the others anywhere nearby.” Panning our surroundings, I was sizing up the proximity of potential witnesses. “Do you honestly think you can dispatch me all alone?”
Celine scanned the immediate beach area. We were far enough from the crowds and it was sufficiently dark for her to take action. I sensed her growing aggression as she drew near. “Dear Brian,” she said, as a smile of arrogance encompassed her face. Placing both hands gently on my head, she violently twisted in an attempt to snap my neck. My head did not budge. With an increasing panic, she wrenched harder. Mystified by her inability to kill me, a growing look of fear eclipsed her confident smile.
I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, while shoving her shoulder down, clearing a path to her neck. In our present circumstances, there was only one way to kill her. Without hesitation, I thrust my teeth deeply into her neck. Now fighting for her life, Celine flailed about madly, only to discover her strength was no match for mine. With my grasp firmly around her neck she was unable to scream. Her blood filled my mouth as I drained her body. As she wretched and convulsed, I could sense her life force passing to me. Celine’s body ceased to resist and collapsed. I continued to drink until her veins ran dry.
I looked down in my arms at Celine’s lifeless body. Despite the violent nature of her death, she appeared to be at peace. Unlike New Orleans, where revenge cleansed my malice, grief rained upon me. I had killed one of my own. “May God have mercy on both of our souls.” I kissed Celine’s forehead, sat down and cradled her in my arms. I phoned my driver and instructed him where to pick me up. Ten minutes later, the black Denali pulled up on Ocean Drive.
I picked up Celine’s body in my arms and carried her to the waiting car. “One shot too many,” I said to the driver, as he peered at Celine in my arms. There was no room for mistakes here. I placed Celine in the back seat and returned to the other side where the driver was waiting by the door.
“Spiritul de întuneric, Te implor. Posedă această ființă indisciplinat. Forja cuvintele mele asupra sufletului lor. Viața lor să fie a mea sângele nostru să fie una.” I chanted until the driver collapsed into unconsciousness. Stuffing him to the passenger back seat, I took the wheel and adjusted the mirror. Briefly startled by the illusion Celine’s eyes had opened, my heart pounded. I shook off the mirage and pulled away.
Unfortunately, the hunt for Gabrielle would have to wait until I dealt with Celine’s body. I had decided on the flight down, the most logical and safe disposal method was to dump the body deep in the everglades.
I dialed my phone again. “Are you ready?”
“Man, I was born ready,” the familiar voice replied.
“Meet me in thirty minutes. The package is ready for delivery.” I hung up the phone. Expecting success, I had already selected a rendezvous location with an expert in hazmat disposal.
Considering my cargo, I pulled away from Ocean Drive and headed toward the causeway, back to Miami obeying traffic laws as if my life depended on it. There were a series of isolated abandoned warehouses just west of Jackson Memorial Hospital where I would hand off Celine’s body without fear of discovery. One in particular I knew well, having used it several years back to set up a prominent politician with a nasty drug habit who held a vendetta against a wealthy client.
I knew I would have to exercise more restraint with Gabrielle and the others—if they were even here. Given the nature of her apparent friendship with Celine in New Orleans, it was a safe bet Gabrielle was somewhere nearby. Celine’s death was hasty to the point of reckless, which could bring exposure. I would have to come up with a better plan for Gabrielle. First to extract information, and secondly, to find some scenario that would convince her to return to the Convent. My final option, which I now viewed as a distressing solution—find a more secluded location for her execution.
I arrived five minutes early for the pre-arranged meeting location on NW South River Drive. Pulling into the pitch-black lot, I killed the headlights. Chips of coral crunched under the tires as the Denali crawled to the far corner of the lot. Rolling my window down, I listened for signs of hostiles as I took visual inventory of my surroundings. On the opposite corner of the lot, I made out the silhouette of a black car.
A distinctly European engine purred as a BMW slowly approached. The windows were tinted almost as black as the exterior. As the Beamer pulled alongside, its driver’s-side window glided down.
From the darkened cockpit, the deep voice spoke, “Brian, it’s good to see you again, alive.”
“Likewise Chuck. Nice Beamer.” Chuck had never been one for sports cars. He usually opted for the more industrial modes of transportations, like Hummers and Jeeps.
“Yeah, it is. I ran into a little cash a few months back. So I decided to treat myself.”
“Nice treat.” I instantly concurred. A little cash. This was most likely his New Orleans payday.
Chuck opened the tailgate of the SUV. “Damn bro, she’s too damn cute to be this dead. Who is she?”
“Celine. And trust me, she was as devious as she was beautiful.”
“I gotta ask you. Why are all the vampires good looking? I mean except for you. Honestly, I haven’t seen a butt-ugly vampire yet.”
I sighed heavily at Chuck. No matter how intense the situation, his mind always revolved around one thing. “I don’t know Chuck. I am sure if you stick around long enough you will eventually meet an ass-faced vampire or two.”
“For sure. So what’s the deal with the dude? You trying to get a two for the price of one on me?
“No.” I studied the drivers face for any signs of awakening. “He is just out cold. I will take him with me.”
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