Half Past Hell

by Jaye Roycraft

  When he had gained a portion of control, he opened his eyes and tilted her chin up. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  She smiled. “Dora. What’s yours?”

  He had once known a woman named Dorothea, many, many years ago. The name, he knew, meant “gift.” The name didn’t fit this girl except in a depraved way, and he wondered if she’d been born with it, or if the name had been bestowed on her by Nestor. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “Duvall. Are you here of your own freewill, Dora?”

  She pulled back, frowning. “Of course I am. What kind of a question is that?”

  “Never mind.” He felt a small pang of pity for the girl. He guessed she’d be dead before her next birthday, but there was nothing he could do about it. True vampire clubs were considered foreign soil, and like embassies, were ruled by their own laws. Mortal statutes and ordinances had no meaning here, and Duvall’s badge could have been a cheap lapel pin for all the importance it carried. “I have some business to conduct with Nestor. Maybe afterward . . . if you’re still available.”

  She pouted and dragged a finger over his lips to rest on his chin. “Maybe I won’t be interested . . . later.”

  Vall looked up and saw the Viking staring at him. He looked back at the girl. “You’ll be interested.” He gave her a wink. “I have to go.”

  He rose, unfurling her from his lap, and she blew him a kiss.

  Vall followed the Viking down a hallway, then down a short flight of stairs, and through two more locked doors. After the goon unlocked the door to what Vall knew was Nestor’s inner sanctum, he waited to be invited in.

  “Come.”

  Vall entered, walking the fine line between submissiveness to an elder and his desire to be respected himself. He paused just inside the doorway, not in indecision or fear, but purposefully, to focus attention on his entrance. Only inexperienced fools hurried to hide their nervousness and lack of self-esteem. Vall had seen it in mortals time and again, police recruits who were always rushing from hitch to hitch. Few dispatched assignments were life or death. “Let things percolate,” the veterans always said. “By the time you get there, the dispute will have solved itself.” Nestor’s time was valuable, so Duvall took his time.

  “Ah, Duvall, the gray wolf. The wolf in sheep’s clothing who wants to be a sheep.”

  Vall knew it was a reference to his being a cop and working for mortals, but he didn’t like the allusion. He never had been nor had any desire to be a sheep. “Isn’t that what you wanted, Nestor? For mortals and the undead to live and work together in harmony? I find it interesting that you helped make this bed, and yet you disdain those of us who lie in it.”

  Nestor, though over four hundred years old, didn’t have the appearance of one so elderly. He was tall for one so old, but even seated he was an imposing figure. His dark hair was long and done in elaborate braids caught up, coiled, and twisted so that no one truly knew how long it really was. His eyes were royal blue, as if the eyes of one so pompous would be any other color. A girl slept on the floor at his feet. She was naked, but wore a black collar around her neck, as if she were a dog. She, too, looked young, and the sight made even Vall’s time-hardened stomach turn. This, then, was Nestor’s idea of vampire-mortal “equality”—vamps dominant, mortals submissive. It was a vision of how things should be that most vamps would agree with. Duvall, though, found the realization, if not the philosophy, of the vision repugnant.

  “You’ve sold out, Duvall. That’s what I don’t like.”

  “Sold out, Nestor? How can that be? You know as well as I do that I don’t have a soul to sell. Did you do any less in brokering this so-called ‘peace’?”

  “This isn’t what I wanted, Duvall, and well you know it. Barely twenty years have passed. A mere blink, nothing more. Give it time. This is just the first step. We will eventually prevail, of that I have no doubt.”

  “And what is it exactly about my job that you see as so distasteful? Would a police department with no vampires be preferable to you?”

  Nestor smiled, showing teeth as artificially white and sharp as those of the Viking. He nudged the girl with his foot, rousing her. She rose to her hands and knees and turned to stare at Vall. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, as if she were drugged. Vall didn’t put it past Nestor. Finding girls to willingly have sex with vampires was one thing. Being a pet on a chain to a creature as ancient and twisted as Nestor was something else. The doyen opened his long robe in invitation, or perhaps more appropriately, in commandment. He was naked under the robe, and while Vall wasn’t surprised by the baring of his prick, he was mildly disgusted. Nestor’s cock reminded him of a stinkhorn, a particularly foul-smelling fungi that grew in the woods and had a thick stalk and a narrow cap. Whatever the girl’s opinion, she obediently put her head between Nestor’s legs and serviced him.

  “I heard you helped kill a suckling last night,” he said.

  Bad news traveled fast. But Vall expected no less. Nestor always knew what was going on in the city, especially where the undead were concerned. He didn’t doubt that Nestor even had spies in the police department, keeping him abreast of every little thing that happened. Perhaps even Crevant or DeMora. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and one he hadn’t previously considered, but it was a possibility.

  “He would have died anyway.”

  “Ah. Of course. The case of the dying undead. And how have you and your fellow brethren in the police department made things better? Are you any closer tonight to solving this case than you were when the first vampire died?”

  It was the opening Vall had been waiting for. “With your help, yes.”

  Nestor leaned his head back, closed his eyes and groaned. The girl made loud sucking noises as she performed the job that she was apparently quite skilled at.

  Nestor opened his eyes and looked at him. “Ah, we finally come to the heart of this little visit. What do you want, Duvall?”

  “I need a chemist. Someone who can make an analysis for me. Someone who can be trusted to give me the truth and keep his mouth shut about it.”

  Nestor laughed. “Perfect. You’ve made my own point eloquently.” He swung his hands to the side and leaned forward as far as he could with the girl’s head between his legs. “You don’t trust your own co-workers. I rest my case.”

  Vall didn’t like it, but he’d grovel if he had to. “Will you help?”

  Nestor laughed again. “Of course. That is why I am here, no? One of my people will call you. Make sure Viktor has your number.”

  Vall inclined his head. “Thank you, Doyen. I am in your debt. And know this. This case will be solved. I can promise you that.”

  “Indulge yourself before you leave, Duvall. It’s on the house. Dora, I know, would be only too happy to please you. She’s new. You would be her first.”

  The thought roused his blood to an almost painful ache, but his mind was equally repelled. “My thanks again, Doyen, but I’ll accept some other time. Business presses me tonight.”

  “As you wish.”

  The interview was over. Vall gave both his cell phone number and his home number to Viktor, the Viking, but didn’t give his number at the Police Administration Building. Vall would have to be very careful from now on in whom he trusted.

  Dora smiled broadly when she spotted him, but as he passed her and continued to the front entrance, her smile turned upside down. He was hungry, yes, but he’d be damned if he’d emulate Nestor’s depravity.

  VALL DROVE TO Piggsville on a whim and pulled up in front of Leon’s. And there it was—the red sports car. He parked and went inside, and sure enough, she was there, sitting all alone in a corner booth.

  She must have been lost in thought, for she didn’t seem to see him until he was standing right in front of her table. She raised her eyes, and with recognition came her smile.

 
“Hi.”

  “Hello, Veronica. May I join you?”

  “Please.”

  He sat down across from her. “I didn’t think I’d see you in here again after what happened last week.”

  “Well, I park in front now, and I make sure I don’t leave alone.” She paused, and in the dim light he felt as much as saw her blush. “What I meant to say is that I wait until someone else walks out the door, and then I leave at the same time.”

  “I knew what you meant.”

  She looked down, and her awkwardness was appealing, especially after the practiced smoothness of little Dora.

  Veronica scratched at a spot on her head, smoothed her hair, then looked at the bar. “I, um, never got a chance to thank you for what you did for me.”

  It was his turn to be tongue-tied. He was unused to humans thanking him. “It was my pleasure.”

  Finally she looked at him. “Are you really a cop?”

  “So they tell me.”

  “And the other cop? The one who . . .”

  “I think ‘decked’ is the term Leon used, isn’t it? The one who decked me.”

  She nodded.

  “My partner.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “My brand new partner,” he explained. “He didn’t know who I was. Or so he claimed.”

  “He’s human.”

  Vall smiled. “Oh, very.”

  Veronica shook her head. “I don’t understand. He never even asked me if I was okay. If I remember right, you asked twice if I was all right. I’ve been thinking about that all week. I just haven’t been able to get it out of my head—what you did for me and all. I’ve, ah . . .”

  She paused, sucked in her lower lip, and bit down on it. The small move made him go hard before she could finish her sentence.

  “Um, I’ve been coming here every evening since then, hoping you’d come in again. So why did you do it? Help me, I mean, when your partner couldn’t have cared less.”

  He’d been trying to figure out mortals for almost three hundred years. He shrugged.

  “Please, Vall. I’d really like to know.”

  “I can’t answer for my partner. As for me, I’m just selfish. I saw a chance to give a couple fools what they had coming, and at the same time put you in my debt. That way, if I saw you again, maybe you wouldn’t run from me.”

  She twisted her mouth, as if she was unsure whether or not she wanted to smile. “I can’t tell if you’re telling me the truth or making fun of me.”

  And he wasn’t sure if she was making fun of him. She sounded sincere, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been taken for a fool by a woman. Hunger and a hard-on had an annoying way of subjugating all his other wants and needs, including his ability to correctly read the emotions of others. He leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “If we erect a wall of lies now, it’s because it’s the only thing we have left to hide behind. Is that how it is with you?”

  She blinked, and her eyes darted away and then back, as if perhaps she sensed she was going to be blindsided. “What?”

  “What’s a rich girl like you doing in Piggsville?” he asked softly.

  She looked stunned, as if he had punched her. “Rich? What are you talking about?”

  “You’re the former Senator’s daughter.”

  Her face reddened again, but this time he knew it was anger, not embarrassment. “How did you find out?”

  “Even vampire cops have a few brains. So what, exactly, is a girl from the suburbs doing here?”

  She buried her gaze in her drink and stirred the ice cubes with her straw. “My father helped negotiate the peace. I suppose you know that.”

  He nodded. “The undead have long memories. Your father was very much against vampire rights. But go on.”

  She looked up. “I won’t deny that, but my father wanted peace above all else, and peace is often about compromise. But I won’t apologize for his opinions. What he helped to accomplish is remarkable. I helped in his last campaign. I believed what he believed. But now . . . I guess I’m confused.”

  “So you came to the big, bad city to find out for yourself what life here is like?”

  She looked down again, staring at her drink. “Something like that.”

  He tried again. “You came here to meet a vampire?”

  She nodded.

  He wanted to laugh. “Leon’s is not a vamp bar.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why come here? There are plenty of vamp bars downtown.”

  She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Partygoers. And phonies.”

  “Wannabes.”

  “Yeah. Someone I know told me vamps come here sometimes.”

  “Me. I’m the only who comes here. As part of my job.”

  She said nothing, and he tried to read her blood. Something in what she’d said didn’t ring true. He leaned all the way back. “I don’t want to be somebody’s project.”

  She shook her head. “I understand. I’m totally embarrassed.”

  He still wasn’t sure if she was being straight with him or not. Her performance rang with sincerity, but her story seemed farfetched. No one in this day and age was this naïve, but his truth radar, usually so reliable, was too clouded by hunger and the things she was doing to his body to be of much use. It seemed he was destined again tonight to be frustrated in his efforts. “I don’t think I can help you in what you’re looking for, Veronica.” He rose to leave.

  Just as quickly she slid out of the booth and put a hand on the leather of his coat sleeve. “I think you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

  Vall headed for the door. She let go of his coat, but followed him outside. He stopped when he reached his car, turned to her, and smoothed the strands of hair she’d been fussing with. He didn’t want to be an experiment or a subject for a thesis, but his hunger took precedence over such noble considerations. He didn’t want to let her go. She was there for him, sustenance for his needs, passion for his wants. She was as innocent in her own way as Dora was in hers, and innocence was to be taken, kindling to be consumed.

  “Prove it,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “If I’m exactly what you’re looking for, then you must accept my needs, as well. Allow me to taste you.”

  Her eyes were as big and round as those of the sucklings. So much innocence had already been lost in this world, yet it was just this quality that he craved in her. “Relax. I’m not talking about sex.” Not yet. He opened the passenger door and waited. She didn’t move.

  “I thought so.” He closed the door.

  She put a hand on his arm. “No, wait. You won’t hurt me?”

  He tried not to smile and shook his head. Out of the mouths of babes . . . and mortals.

  “All right.”

  He opened the door again. “Don’t worry. With the tinted windows no one will see anything.”

  She slid in, and he moved around to the driver’s side, grateful for the old Lincoln’s roomy interior and wide bench seat. He started the engine. It fired with a roar, and he pumped the gas pedal until the cold motor settled and throbbed softly, like a heartbeat.

  “There’ll be heat in a minute. Just relax.”

  “I don’t want it to show.”

  “It won’t.”

  Her mouth was parted, and her breath frosted until the heat kicked in. Restless glints of light reflected in her eyes, but her nerves only served to sharpen his desire.

  “Look at me and relax, Veronica. Give yourself over to the pleasure and to me.” He spoke through his eyes, compelling her to obey.

  Her gaze steadied, the signal she was under his spell enough to allow him to take her, and he did. The pads of his fingertips were first, tracing a path down the sk
in of her cheek to her neck. His lips were next, tasting the warmth of her skin. She responded with soft guttural sounds from deep in her throat that spoke to him of her pleasure.

  His mouth brushed hers, softly at first, then he drew her lower lip between his lips. It was full with promise, like forbidden fruit, and he deepened the kiss. He tasted blood, for she’d indeed broken the skin when she’d bitten her lip, and the unexpected treat set his fangs to aching. He snaked his tongue into her mouth, and the taste of her on its tip nearly undid him. Unable to speak, she made a small sound, but it didn’t seem to be one of protest, so he sucked on her lip until he couldn’t bear the tease of the tiny cut any longer.

  He released her mouth, and with her panting in his ear, he moved his mouth to a spot on her neck well shielded by her hair. He sank his fangs into her, as deep as he could without lacerating her skin with the rest of his teeth, and her body tensed and jerked in his arms. She was hot and sweet and ready, and he paused before retracting his fangs, just to enjoy the moment. When he pulled out of her and started drawing on her, her body softened in his embrace, and he felt the heat of her body through the layers of her clothes.

  He drew heavily but not long, just enough to take the edge off his bloodlust, and just before the hunger of the rest of his body became uncontrollable. He pulled away from her, smoothed her hair, and waggled her chin until she met his gaze. Her eyes were glazed and slightly unfocused, as if she were drunk.