by Unknown
“I know the thought gave me quite the laugh, since most of the time you’re missing most of your clothes, including your underwear.”
He grinned wickedly. “I can’t help it. My mistress likes me this way. We do have that suit of armor in the hall. I could try and wear that to bed.”
She snorted. “Let’s stick with model. That armor gets chilly.”
He laughed, thinking back to their youth. He had once worn the armor, and she had indeed helped him get out of it.
Well, mostly.
“I don’t know how I feel about the detective picturing me in my underwear, but you may feel free to do it anytime you wish,” he said, tucking her into his shoulder.
“You’re full of jokes this evening. My, my, you’re living on the edge,” she retorted, as she snuggled her body up against his. The heat filled her, and she wanted to purr in pleasure. She did take the opportunity to brush her lips against his chest, and it made him shudder.
“Rest, Jolie,” he said, kissing her on the top of her hair. “We need to regain our energy.”
They both closed their eyes and allowed death to slide into their intertwined bodies, taking their essence and again leaving them hollow shells.
Temporarily.
∞ ∞ ∞
Friday Afternoon
As the energy flooded her body, Jolie knew that she was being summoned back to life. When she drew that first breath, and saw the young girl staring down at her, she knew it was time to wake. Her body tingled as death slowly made its retreat.
Once more, she had escaped the emptiness.
“It’s noon, Mistress.”
“Thank you, Louisa,” she said, noticing that her bedmate was still in the grasps of sleep.
“Do you wish for me to wake Jacques, or let him rest until later?” In all honesty, she was surprised to find her mistress in bed with her guardian. This was a first for her, and it gave her a little bit of the giggles. All the women in the house would love to wake up next to Jacques, but they knew the truth.
He only had eyes for the mistress. He wasn’t an option in the dating pool.
Jolie heard the laughter in her voice, and she wasn’t ignorant enough to not know why she was amused.
“No. We’ll let him sleep. I need you to feed me, and then you’re free to go. Jacques will be resting until dusk, or when he pulls from death on his own.”
There was no point disturbing him.
All that she planned on doing was working, and then dealing with the detectives.
Taking the young woman’s hand, the energy seeped into her body, filling all the empty spaces which death had left vacant. This was one of her favorite parts of the day. It was always nice to wake and be refilled again.
Opening her eyes, Jolie smiled at her donor. “Thank you Louisa, and please don’t mention to Balzac that you saw Jacques in my bed. I’m not ashamed of it. I just don’t want him to make shitty comments to hurt Jacques,” she stated, running her hand down his artfully sculpted torso.
Louisa knew better than to betray her mistress. “I promise, your secret is safe with me,” she giggled, and then headed out of the quarters. At the door, she turned and winked at her mistress. “Enjoy your guardian… I mean day!”
Jolie laughed as the door was closed. Well, at least someone wasn’t upset that she was carrying on a relationship with him.
Then, she was caught off guard. Was that what this was?
A relationship?
This was something that she needed to carefully ponder. Mating with your guardian wasn’t generally done. Jolie swallowed the lump in her throat as she contemplated all the possible obstacles in the road ahead.
Oh boy. If she was thinking that far ahead, then Jolie knew she was in deep trouble.
Intently, she studied his face, and then did something that she had never done before. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on his chilly lips. The taste and scent of him called to her on some primitive level, and she was helpless to fight against it. At some point, Jolie had fallen hard. As she pulled away, her hand stroked his cheek. “Je t’aime, Jacques.”
The ease in which the words flowed from her lips surprised her. Now, if she could only say them to his face while he was alive.
Climbing out of bed, Jolie wanted a shower and to warm up. As she paused at the bathroom door, she glanced back at him.
She prayed that she knew what she was doing.
Or someone was bound to get hurt.
∞ ∞ ∞
Detective Brogan sat at a booth in the seediest bar in town, waiting for his snitch to show up. He wanted to get the word on the street about the slayings, and this weasel had been useful in the past. Sitting there as he sipped his Coke, Flynn continually glanced impatiently at his watch.
If the snitch didn't get here soon, he was going to have to call this meeting a bust. Pulling out his cell, he figured that he might as well call the doctor’s office next to confirm that they were still on for their appointment.
Why waste his entire day?
Just as he was about to dial the number, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Well, his day was looking up, since his weasel had arrived. When the man approached, he pointed at the seat across from him.
“Sit.”
The weasel slid into the booth nervously as he kept looking around.
“What have you heard?”
“First, where’s my green? You want the information, then I need to get paid.”
Brogan reached into his pocket and pulled out some twenties to show him what he was offering up. “Tell me what you have and no screwing around, or I’ll tell everyone on the street that you’re my information bitch.”
The man got edgy.
“Head to ‘The Sanguivore’.”
“What the hell is that?” asked Brogan.
“It’s a bar that caters to blood drinkers.”
“Are you trying to suggest that their clientele are vampyres? There’s no such thing, and we both know it. Now, maybe what you’re trying to tell me is that they deal in fantasy. Do you mean goth kids, pretending to be vampyres?” Brogan sat forward, dying to hear more. This was the best lead so far. It worked for him, since the victims had two puncture marks on their necks.
Someone thought that they were a vamp.
Awesome.
“I’m just telling you what I’ve heard on the street. There are some funny things that go down at that club.”
At this point, a lead was a lead.
“Okay, thanks. Keep your ears open for anything else.” He slid the money across the table and watched the weasel snatch it up before jumping out of his seat. In a flash, the man was out the door and likely off buying drugs.
Brogan took out his phone and dialed the doctor’s office to check on their meeting. Jolie’s secretary answered and informed him that she was working out of her home office today. He asked if she mentioned their meeting, and she told him it was still on, only there. He hung up the phone and called his partner.
“Gress.”
“Our meeting has been moved to the doctor’s house,” said Brogan.
“Same time?”
“Yeah it is, and guess what I discovered?” He told his partner all about the street weasel’s information. Gress’s only response was a whistle.
Brogan knew this would be an interesting piece of information to share with the doctor.
On second thought...
“I think that we should hold the club’s name from the good doctor,” said Brogan.
“Are you in the mood to get your ass kicked by the commissioner?” asked Gress. “Last I looked, we don’t get to make these kinds of calls.”
“I’m not saying we never tell her, but let’s see what our expert ferrets out herself first. I’m curious to see exactly how good she is at her job.”
“You still think she’s just a pretty face, huh?”
Brogan knew she was more than that. Her ass in those leather pants was epic. That alone won her babe points in his bo
ok, but as for solving murders?
That was still debatable.
“Okay, you’re lead detective, so it works for me. Catch you at the doctor’s. I’ll swing by and get the ME’s report on last night’s victim before I meet you there.”
“See you later,” Flynn said, clicking off his phone. He tossed some money on the table and waved to the bartender on his way out. For now, he needed to grab his files and prep for the doctor’s meeting.
He was almost giddy with joy, and it didn't have anything to do with work.
Frankly, he couldn’t wait to get into the house to snoop around. He was intrigued by her, the mansion, and most importantly the underwear model, who watched over her like a guard dog.
Yeah, today he was going to scope it all out and hopefully find some answers.
∞ ∞ ∞
Jolie sat at her desk going over all the papers in the file. She had the victims’ pictures spread out on her desk. At that moment, Jolie was focused on the wounds and the locations of where their bodies were left to be found.
All of them were within walking distance to the only logical place that could have anything to do with this mess.
‘The Sanguivore’.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes. It looked like she was going to have to hit the club to see what was going on there.
‘The Sanguivore’ was the local vampyre club. It was fronted by all the local goth kids. On the outside, it looked just like a wannabe club. Yet, if you worked past the layers, you would find it was owned and operated by a rival society. The kids, who thought they had a snowball’s chance at being the undead, were actually feeding and offering cover to her kind.
Oh, the irony.
At one time, she had contemplated opening a club just like that one, except it was more of a headache than she liked. Jolie strictly kept her business ventures to property and real estate. That way, they could move and keep it relatively quiet. Owning a club that served alcohol was too much paper work for her liking. Then, add in the fact that the place drew too much attention.
Their kind generally liked to lay low.
She knew the vampyre who was running it, and he was the exception to the rule. He was flamboyant, arrogant, and a pain in her ass. It wouldn’t be the first time that they had gone head to head.
It looked like they were going to be seeing each other once more.
Terrific.
Jolie tapped the pen against her hand. She was going to have to take a look around to see what she could get out of the patrons. Getting in would be tricky, but she believed that she could pull it off. Once inside, she would be able to get information out of the rival society.
Maybe she should tell the detectives about the club. Then, she laughed. What exactly was she supposed to say?
Hey, we’re all vampyres and one of us is poaching people. Want to go undercover and visit their feeding ground?
It couldn’t happen.
Jolie didn’t wish to have fingers pointed at her family or another society. Doing that was like airing their dirty laundry.
No, this was going to have to be handled quietly. As in, behind the police detectives’ backs.
It was official.
This was about to get tricky.
She knew the exact moment when the first car pulled into the driveway, five minutes before the meeting was to start. It was draining to scan that far away, but she used the energy to ensure their safety. Shortly afterward, the second car arrived, and she headed to the door. Pulling it open, but being careful of the sun’s rays, she smiled warmly at the men waiting there.
“Come in, Detectives,” she offered, stepping back. “Thank you for agreeing to meet at my home this afternoon. I appreciate your willingness to drive all the way out here.”
“Are you feeling well, Doctor? Your secretary said you cancelled all your appointments today.” asked Brogan, looking past her into the home. So far, it looked just like her. It was old world elegance and very much her style.
“I’m quite well, Detective. I only had two appointments this morning, and it seemed like a waste to drive in for just them when I could dedicate the entire morning to your case.”
“Wow, Doc! This is some house!” said Gress, ogling the décor.
“Thank you, Detective Gress. It’s home. What else can I say?” she replied. “Please feel free to look around, gentlemen. Can I get you a drink?” she offered.
“I’ll have coffee if you have it,” Brogan replied. He wasn’t really in the mood for any, but he wanted a few minutes to wander around and take it all in.
Yeah, and snoop. He might as well call it what it was.
“Same here,” added Gress.
Jolie closed the door behind them, leading her guests into the foyer. “I’ll meet you in the study when you’re finished exploring. It’s right through those doors over there,” she instructed, as she clicked away on her pricey heels.
Brogan had to admit that at first, it was the house that had his attention, now it was the seductive sway of her hips as she walked out of the room.
Yeah, she was a dream-a sweaty, sex filled one.
“Holy Shit! Flynn, this isn’t a house, it’s a museum,” he stated, turning in circles, not knowing where to start first. “She could charge admission into this house.”
That had his attention, and pulled him away from his sexy doctor fantasy.
“What’s valuable?” he asked, picking up an aqua blue trinket.
“Let’s just start with that bowl that you’re holding. It’s worth more than our salaries for about ten years.” He took the Bristol blue glass from Brogan’s hands and placed it back on the shelf.
“My God!” He stepped away from the bowl and stood as far from it and anything else as possible. “How do you know so much about these things?” Brogan asked, as he pointed at the sculptures and art.
The man was intrigued by some armor standing at attention not far from them.
“My mother is an art historian. We traveled to all the best museums. She made sure we could recognize and appreciate everything we came across. Don’t you ever go to museums, Brogan?”
“Not often. I can only identify a few things. I do like Van Gogh’s paintings. You know, the ones with the big sunflowers,” he said.
Gress tentatively ran his hand over the suit of armor and glanced back at his partner. “Dude, this is authentic medieval armor. It’s about seven hundred years old. Look at how its hand pounded. Someone made this a long time ago!”
Brogan stared at the crest engraved on the breast plate. Barely distinguishable were two letters. They looked like a ‘J’ and a ‘D’. “Is it valuable?”
The man simply laughed. “Yeah, and we’re talking big numbers, since the sword and shield are all here. Look at the matching engravings.”
Okay, they thought the doctor was rich, but they were grotesquely underestimating her wealth.
It was making Brogan very uncomfortable.
“Come on. Let’s go sit in the study. Already, we look like gawking idiots, and we don’t need to break something. The commissioner will fire both of our asses.”
Gress agreed wholeheartedly.
The two men entered the study, and it was just as impressive as the main hall had been. Gress walked from painting to painting, studying the signatures in the bottom corners. He paused in front of the one Brogan was admiring.
“Holy shit!”
“This can’t be what I think it is. Can it?” asked Brogan. The two men stood in front of Van Gogh’s Vase with Five Sunflowers. “This has to be a copy.”
“If it is, then someone stole the original from me,” said the voice from the doorway.
Both men spun around and stared openmouthed. There stood the doctor with a tray and coffee.
Jolie continued, “It’s been in my family since it was commissioned in the late eighteen hundreds.” She placed the tray down and crossed the room to the painting and ran her fingers over the ornate frame. “Beautiful isn't it?”
Both men were astounded that some alarm didn't go off. Why wasn’t something that valuable protected?
“It’s one of my favorite collections of Van Gogh’s,” said Brogan, honestly.
“I always thought it was destroyed in a fire,” Gress said, admiring the painting with reverence.
“Yes, it almost did perish. Fortunately, my distant aunt had the fortitude to save it. Someone tried to burn down our ancestral home in France. They assumed everyone was sleeping, but the family escaped and they took a few of their more important works of art. They then moved to the United States to start over,” she offered, telling the tale of the hunters and their hatred of her kind.
“That’s too bad,” said Brogan. “That’s a beautiful stained glass window,” he added, pointing over the desk.
“Thank you. It was commissioned by Louis Confer Tiffany in the late eighteen hundreds right after my family immigrated here.”
“It’s a Tiffany’s original?” asked Gress. “Man, my mother would love to see all this. She’s an art historian who spends her life in museums. She would shit herself over that armor in the hall. Is it real?”
She smiled at the memory in her head. “Yes, it’s very real, and from what I know about it, it was owned by one of the bravest men ever. He fought for his countess, and was renowned for his fierce fighting style and bravery.”
Jolie was now speaking their language. She had them at fighting and bravery.
“The countess favored him above all others, and soon he dedicated himself to protecting her life.”
“Did he do it?” Brogan asked, leaning forward. He loved a good story.
“He did. They lived a long time and spent many days enjoying the spoils of battle. He was her hired killer, and so many of their enemies feared them for the rest of their lives.”
She hoped the love in her eyes didn't give anything away. Heading to her chair, Jolie sat comfortably behind the desk. Whenever she saw the suit of armor, she recalled watching Jacques do battle, wearing it proudly. Then, she recalled what happened behind closed doors in celebration...
The enemy wasn’t the only one who was pillaged.