Be My Valentine
A Princeps Venatrix Novel
By Niall Teasdale
Copyright 2016 Niall Teasdale
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contents
Prologue
Part One: Valentine’s Day
Part Two: A Different Kind of Spook
Interlude
Part Three: Ghouls
Part Four: Judas
About the Author
Prologue
New York, NY, 14th February 2015.
‘Would you be my valentine?’
Margo’s eyes widened a fraction, not because of the question, but because she was going to say ‘yes’ and was briefly gripped by the strange feeling that she had gone mad. He was tall, handsome, with a broad chest and dark blue eyes, and blonde hair which had been carefully groomed… But Margo was not the kind of woman who struck up conversations with strangers in bars, or had one-night stands with strangers in bars, or fell in love with strangers in bars… Had he even given her his name?
‘Oh… yes,’ Margo said.
He smiled. Her heart melted. ‘I… don’t usually do this kind of thing,’ he said.
‘Pick up girls in bars?’
‘No. I mean, yes. I mean… I just thought you looked like… someone I could talk to and… I’m in a hotel just a block away…’ He sighed. ‘You wouldn’t…’
Something beyond Margo’s heart melted. In her entire life, she could not remember ever having wanted another man so much before. Something hot and insistent began to throb between her legs and, even more briefly than before, she wondered whether she was going just a little insane. ‘I would,’ she said. She stood, pushing her chair back. ‘I would.’ She felt light-headed, excited, so excited. Thought seemed irrelevant, useless. All she wanted right now was this man who was getting to his feet and leading her out with the same sort of urgency that she was feeling.
The walk to his hotel seemed to take no time at all. They passed couples out on the town for Valentine’s Day, but Margo did not notice them. Her mind was on what would happen when they got to his room. It was going to be wonderful. She knew that it would be wonderful and she was finding it hard to keep herself together until they got somewhere private.
It seemed that he could not wait either because his mouth took hers as soon as the elevator doors closed. She moaned into his mouth as his body pressed against hers. She felt him, already hard, pressing against her stomach, and fought the urge to ask him to take her right there and then. A few more seconds. Just a little while longer…
The door closed behind them and she could barely remember getting from the elevator to the room. Her coat was gone and thrown to the floor before she turned to him, and then he was kissing her again while deft fingers unbuttoned her blouse. When she found herself lying back on the bed, naked, some small part of her brain wondered how a man who did not pick up girls in bars had got so adept at undressing them, but his mouth was working over the insides of her thighs by then and most of her brain had turned to soup. There was a dull throb in her left thigh which was pulsing in time to the heat between her legs.
He moved, and Margo gasped as she was swept up and around, and found herself straddling his thighs. His hands were on her hips, holding her there, and she could feel him at her entrance, poised to strike. His hands slid up her body to her breasts, freeing her to move, and she sank down, groaning as his girth stretched her. His thumbs teased her nipples, and she moaned and began to rise again. She wanted it hot and heavy, but when she sank once again, he reached up, taking her head in his hands and slowing her down. He held her there, his blue eyes fixed on hers as he controlled the pace and turned her maddened rut into slow torture. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as the tension grew ever higher and her stomach muscles began to tremble with the pressure building inside her. Her inner muscles clenched and fluttered as she sat on the edge of climax. She saw his lips tighten and knew he was almost there, and he pushed her down, his hands tight around her skull, and her eyes glazed as the first wash of orgasm flooded her body…
And that was when, with a sharp twist, he snapped her neck.
~~~
When love is not madness, it is not love.
– Pedro Calderon de la Barca.
Part One: Valentine’s Day
New York, NY, 14th February 2015.
The Black Candle was humming. That it was Valentine’s Day might have been enough reason, but it was also the annual opening day anniversary party which added an extra level of festivity.
On the ground floor, generally a hotbed of erotic tension, the possibility of orgy was hanging over the place like a crimson cloud of hormones. Someone was crooning out love songs on the middle floor which, it seemed, the mixed couples had claimed as their own. Mixed in this case meant humans and vampires, because the Black Candle was the premier nightspot for those of the fanged persuasion, at least in New York.
There was no music on the third floor, where the main lounge bar was located, but there was plenty of romance and no small amount of erotic tension. The tables were full of vampires there to celebrate the anniversary. The booths, always in more shadow, were full of couples and groups who were celebrating in a manner which the shadows made easier. And Pat, the owner, had got in some extra staff to help with the party, which meant she got some time to chat to the group who were sitting on stools at one end of her bar.
‘It’s shaping up to be a good night,’ Pat said as she watched drinks being handed across the counter, money being handed back. ‘Fifteen years. Wow.’
‘The blink of an eye,’ Dione said, smiling.
‘To you,’ Leeanne pointed out. ‘That’s like… point six of a per cent of your life. It’s fifty-eight per cent of mine.’
‘A valid point.’
‘And happy birthday, Leeanne,’ Pat added. ‘While I remember. Twenty-six, is it?’
Leeanne gave a grunt. ‘Don’t remind me. I’m past the quarter century. I’m getting old.’
‘I’m sixty-seven.’
‘You haven’t aged since nineteen sixty-nine.’
‘Technicality. I’m still old enough to be your mother.’
‘Grandmother,’ Dione said.
Pat glowered at her friend. ‘Will you stop doing that. You’re old enough to be related to half the population.’
‘Considering the spread of genetic material through the populace… I suppose I could be. Not directly since I never married. And I’ve no idea whether I even had any brothers or sisters.’
‘Well, that’s good,’ Lisa said. ‘I don’t want to be accused of incest.’
Leeanne giggled. ‘I somehow think that a hundred-plus generations of distance would invalidate that anyway.’
‘And anyone who cared would be more concerned that you were sleeping with a vampire,’ Mike pointed out. ‘I’m sure that’s illegal in Texas.’
‘No,’ Dione said. ‘Even there no one has actually thought it viable to legislate against sexual relations with fictional beings.’ She frowned. ‘One could argue it’s necrophilia, I suppose.’
‘Class A misdemeanour in New York,’ Mike said. ‘I think you’d be hard-pressed to get a conviction given it comes under the statutes for non-consensual interc
ourse, and consent has been given, and it also says “dead human body” and vampires are, at least technically, not human.’
‘You’ve given this some thought.’ Dione was smirking.
‘Yeah, well, with the amount of it going on, it seemed like a good idea.’
‘No one ever seems to consider the feelings of the corpse,’ Pat said. ‘Maybe it’s feeling frisky. Maybe all it wants is a mug of cocoa and a good book. No one ever asks.’
‘Well,’ Mike replied, ‘that’s why it’s under “sexual misconduct.”’
‘Hey,’ Leeanne said, ‘are zombies–’
‘No,’ Dione interrupted. ‘Unless you count certain practices associated with Haitian Vodou, zombies don’t exist. Ghouls are quite enough, thank you, and I think we need more drinks. Our human partygoers aren’t drunk enough yet.’
Grinning, Pat turned to the back of the bar for glasses. ‘How’s Juliana doing? You couldn’t persuade her to come out tonight?’
‘She’s adjusting. Mary gets a little exasperated at times, but overall I think things are progressing nicely.’
‘And she wasn’t exactly a clubgoer when she was alive,’ Leeanne added. ‘I think she went to one bachelorette party for one of the other nurses while I was there.’
‘Yup,’ Lisa agreed. ‘She was more of a homebody. Maybe if she’d been converted by a valentine or a succubus, she’d be more of a party animal now, but…’
‘I think she’d just have had a harder time adjusting. I mean, I still get nightmares about waking up and discovering I’m a vampire, and it just almost happened to me. I still can’t quite imagine what it’s like to actually do it.’
‘It depends who’s trying to lynch you,’ Dione said. ‘Being converted against your will, or accidentally for that matter, is unfortunate and often traumatic, but Juliana was luckier than most who find themselves in that situation. I believe she’s adjusting well to her new circumstances.’
~~~
‘You know what’s kind of annoying about being a vampire?’
Mary looked around at her filia. The question had been delivered in a tone which suggested Juliana was musing rather than wallowing. ‘I’m going to be an underdeveloped sixteen-year-old for the next several centuries, hopefully, and you ask me that?’
Juliana flicked green eyes over the teenager who was actually well into her second century and grinned. ‘Yeah, okay. That’s annoying too. I’ve never, ever wanted to get drunk before. Not once. Now I do and alcohol doesn’t even give me a buzz.’
‘Okay, yes. I’m not a great believer in drink either and that has irritated me more than once.’
Picking up the glass of white wine Mary had poured for her, Juliana took a sip. ‘This is quite nice, but it’s basically grape juice with some zing. Someone should put some research into booze for vampires.’
‘Winthrop’s area, not mine. Now, for me, wine is a distinctly different experience than, say, grape juice, but I’ve got the enhanced olfactory sense going. The difference is worth it, even without the chemical effects. It’s… additional stimulation.’
‘Huh. Yeah… Um, I know it’s a couple of weeks off, but I’m still trying to prepare myself for… y’know?’
‘Feeding?’
‘That.’
‘You know I consider that a good sign,’ Mary stated, her expression serious even if she was inwardly pleased.
‘You do?’
‘Yes. A couple of weeks ago, you were still considering ending it.’
Juliana frowned and sipped her wine. ‘Can’t do it. I can’t ask Dione to do it. I know it’s basically her job to end vampires who do something wrong, and she’s okay with that, and I guess I’m okay with that too considering what they have to do to deserve it. I still can’t be responsible for someone else damning themselves just because I can’t cope. And if I’m asking for it, or I starve myself, then I’m damning myself, and if God’s seen fit to make me like this, then there has to be a reason.’
‘I’m a little less sanguine about the whole “God’s ineffable plan” thing, but I don’t care. I don’t think you should throw away what you’ve got, and what you’ve got is a life, even if you’re dead. So, what’s bothering you about feeding?’
‘Uh, well… It’s the “additional stimulation.” I’ve never, uh… I don’t think I want my first time to–’
‘Sex is not a required part of the process, unless you’re a succubus like Dione. We’ll get you a female supplicant who’s not expecting anything more than the bite. You may have to deal with bare breasts, but you’re a nurse so I’d hope you can cope. You bite, drink, stay with them until they recover, and that’s all that’s required. I don’t go in for anything more. Usually.’
‘Usually?’
‘You honestly think I’d manage to go this long without getting… frisky now and then? I’ll be a hundred and forty-five in less than a month.’
‘Oh. I guess… Okay, so sometimes it’s hard not to think of you as a teenager.’
‘And I admit that that makes the times I do want to do it a little more difficult than they might be. But the point is, you don’t have to put out to get blood. It’s just that plenty of people do.’
~~~
‘It’s not just the sex though,’ Lisa said, her expression contemplative. ‘I mean, the sex is incredible. Beyond incredible. It’s like–’
‘We know,’ Leeanne said. ‘We got the whole “religious experience” aspect of the sex. Really.’
Lisa grinned, her cheeks colouring. ‘Sorry. But it’s more than that. It’s having someone who seems to know you, right down to the molecular level. They both do it. Pat doesn’t quite have Dione’s experience, but they both seem to know what I’m thinking.’
Dione tapped her nose. ‘It’s the scent. And experience, obviously, but we can both sense emotional changes through your scent. Amazing what people give away through scent, even though humans aren’t really used to detecting it. Leeanne has changed her shampoo recently, for example.’
Leeanne immediately and self-consciously ran a hand through her copper hair. ‘It’s supposed to bring out the red better…’
‘And you rationalised your shower gel purchasing. Mike uses the same formulation now. So if I didn’t know you’d recently moved in together, I could make a deduction.’
‘I was not going to use a brand named “Grunt for Men.”’
‘It was cheap,’ Mike mumbled.
‘It had a picture of a caveman on the front.’
‘Well…’
‘He was dragging a cavewoman along by her hair.’
‘At least he wasn’t eating Brontoburgers,’ Dione said, smirking. ‘And I’m sure you secretly want Mike to go all caveman on you, Leeanne.’
Leeanne blushed, but she said, ‘I’m not making a secret of it, but I don’t have the hair for dragging.’
‘It’s Valentine’s Day,’ Mike said. ‘Shouldn’t we be going more for romance than caveman?’
Dione gave a shrug. ‘Perhaps not caveman, but a little forcefulness can be quite romantic. The Victorians certainly seemed to think so. All those dark, Gothic romantic heroes with thick eyebrows. The idea that a man finds his love so beautiful that he can’t control himself. Rather out of fashion in this day and age, or it’s out of fashion to think it’s in fashion anyway. I swear humans expect too much of themselves sometimes. I won’t condone rape, obviously, but it sometimes seems that people aren’t allowed to even have thoughts they would never act upon. If humans ever develop telepathy, I’m leaving the planet.’
‘I… used to be pretty much a quiet girl in bed,’ Leeanne said. Her cheeks were glowing, but she pressed on. ‘I don’t mind if Mike’s a little rough sometimes. I think there’s a place for animal lust.’
‘The lounge carpet? Anyway, I disagree. Animal lust is not nearly as good as human lust. Lust should have some intelligence behind it. Love helps. Then, I think, you can get romance out of the strangest circumstances.’
15th February.
‘If she did, it turned nasty.’ The detective assigned to the case was a man named Horace Rolls. Mike thought Rolls’s parents had been a little cruel to their newborn since the man was in his late twenties and Horace was not the most modern of names. ‘The body was found by the maid when she came in to clean the room at two sixteen this afternoon. She was late because they’ve had a lot of checkouts today. ME determined ToD as between eight and nine last night. Broken neck is the probable cause of death, but then we found the bite mark and…’
‘That’s when you called us,’ Dione finished.
‘Yeah.’
Dione turned from her examination of the mirror over the room’s dressing table and, with gloved hands, gently pressed the flesh of the woman’s thighs apart. There was a bite wound on her left thigh which could have been human, though the canines had pierced the skin quite deeply. Trickles of blood led down from the puncture wounds.
‘We’ll take it,’ Dione said. ‘Get the paperwork and the body delivered to SCU.’
‘You got it,’ Rolls replied. ‘What do you make of the message?’
They all turned to look at the mirror again. Someone, presumably the killer, had written ‘Be My Valentine’ on the glass in red lipstick and then drawn a heart ripped in two beside it. The entire scene gave off a serial killer sort of vibe.
‘I think,’ Dione said, ‘that I’ve seen this somewhere before. I don’t think this is his first, so it probably isn’t going to be the last either.’
~~~
‘The press in L.A. called him the “Valentine Killer,”’ Mary said. ‘Not exactly imaginative, but appropriate. He killed five women in the city between the fourteenth of February twenty fourteen and the tenth of April. Cause of death in four of the five was a broken neck. The fourth in sequence was killed with a knife and then beheaded, and they thought he might be escalating the violence, but it seems he attempted the neck-snap and failed. The fifth victim had her neck broken.’
Be My Valentine Page 1