by Shirl Anders
Trinity had an hour before dawn to survey the site of the freshest murder and the surrounding woods for clues about the killer. He could walk by daylight; however, it was uncomfortable and he preferred not to ride in sunlight. Therefore, the grey edges of dawn found him standing over the bloody remains of the woman killed in the woods. One would think the blood would taunt him, but his thoughts were relentlessly on breasts of temptation and thighs of desire never before touched by man or beast.
"Hell," he muttered, rubbing a rough hand over the bristle on his hard jaw. He was cunning and strong enough to take anything from humans. Even their lives. That was the point. He was the predator and they were the prey. He'd learned that well at the command of his Sire. He could still see the faces and hear the screams. Hundreds of them. So helpless. The women and the children were especially hard. The mortal dredges of him that remembered being human were disgusted and deeply saddened by the powerless ones he'd killed.
He and his brothers had been so young, as their vile stepfather turned each one of them into vampires. One by one — and they'd been very afraid of him. That fear of him had overcome their loathing to hunt humans for him to feed upon.
Their mother hadn't realized when she'd married him what he was. He'd used every temptation he could conjure to tempt her for the sole purpose of getting his hand on the four little boys. He coveted them to feed upon at first, until they grew to be strong enough to turn into vampires that would hunt for him. After the first year of marriage, their mother was dead and there was no one left to save them.
Trinity growled at his memories, wondering why they taunted him now, intertwining with his thoughts of Lady Beth Winslow. Perhaps it was because of what could have been. She was the kind of woman he would have married in his long-lost human form. She had sweetness and curves to tempt him until old age. He wondered if he had bound her to him now. Had giving her his blood turned her fate? It worried him. He didn't want to corrupt her.
"No," he snapped, he would protect her. Somehow, he would keep her safe … from himself.
Throwing away his confused thoughts, Trinity crouched down to study the edges of the murder site. He could see where the foul one had dragged his fresh kill into the small clearing. More room to work. He wondered if human men could do such a thing, while speculating about what the monster's point was. There was too much blood left for a vampire and it didn't make sense the monster could be a vampire. Vampires wouldn't tear their food apart in such an animalistic way. This was passion of some kind. A deeply abhorrent lust.
He wondered if Cull was missing another whore. He would have to ask him.
"Why play with Beth?" he muttered. The nature of that taunting hunt was as intimate as it was confusing. "It's nearly as if you knew her, beast. You could have killed her at any moment before I arrived."
Trinity stood, stretching his tall body. He circled the site with his sharp gaze magnifying each torn leaf and broken twig. He easily found the direction the murderer left and he searched to see if any small amount of his blood could be found. Perhaps the woman had scratched him or a branch had gouged him. One small drop of the vile monster's blood left that he could taste and he would know him the next time they met, by instinct alone. There was none, so he followed the trail, noticing how well the murderer ran through the forest without colliding with large branches or falling over limbs. Night vision?
"It has to be," Trinity muttered, stopping his search in one spot, where he could tell the murderer paused. "Humans do not have night vision," he affirmed, looking around the area. "Here, the monster turned back."
Trinity looked back toward the direction of the mansion where he knew Beth came from, while attending a ball. "Bloody hell," he snapped. "He turned back for her." Trinity looked around the area again. "He was leaving, but he turned back for Beth."
The first edges of dawn filtered through the leaves overhead and he knew he had to go and leave further investigation until the next night. Nevertheless, he felt wildness pushing at him, making him edgy and straining his control. The foul beast that murdered women, ripping them apart for no other reason than some distorted and malignant passion, was connected to Beth somehow.
Moments later, he left the forest atop his stallion at a strong gallop. He was going to find his brother Baptiste, the scientist. He had questions his brother might help answer. Hence, when he arrived at Blacknall mansion, he went around back, specifically to avoid Church. He wasn't ready for a question and answer parry with his older brother.
He left his stallion with the grooms. All servants at Blacknall estates were well-paid to not worry about any strange events they might witness. Over the years, it was proven money worked better than force to keep the staffs’ tongues silent about the affairs of the Lords of Blacknall.
Trinity didn't turn toward the main entrance. He walked in the direction of the tower on the west side, and then he opened the heavy plank door to the dungeon beneath. Baptiste had taken over the dungeon for his private work when he wasn't working at the Royal Society with an august group of scientists.
The curving, stonewalled stairs leading downward were dark with no light from oil or wick. Vampires didn't need such trivial human confections. He could easily see his way as though it were an overcast day. The steps were many, and they curved in a circular fashion into the bowels below the mansion. Trinity noticed, as he neared the entrance to the main chamber, that it was glowing with light. That meant Baptiste had humans confined in the dungeon.
His brother forever leant his scientific studies to the many unique traits of vampires. Baptiste had proved many of the characteristics such as the process to create new vampires. All the brothers adhered to strict rules against it. As Baptiste learned about their growing traits such as night vision or how much blood they needed to survive, he increasingly returned to the plight of the feeders.
Feeders were hopeless human beings that some vampires used only to feed upon. They were enslaved but never turned. These poor people were mere shells of themselves, often emaciated of body and soul. Baptiste worked tirelessly trying to find a way to return them to their former health and wellbeing of mind. Trinity knew Baptiste had found the bodies of the lost souls easier to treat than their minds.
When he entered the chamber, he could sense two humans were about. His sharp gaze picked out a man crouched in the shadows on the far side of the chamber, past the tables and equipment of his brother's laboratory. What halted his steps, though, was the woman perched on a high stool in the center of the workspace.
She was sideways to him in a thin rail of a dress with bare feet balanced on the bottom rung of a tall stool. Her hair was a glorious tumble of red hair, which was wild and long. It was so long it fell down her slender back to the top of the stool. She was overly thin and pale, making her easy to place as a feeder, and it gave her a fairy-like appearance.
Baptiste's back was to the entrance as he worked over some resourceful laboratory equipment, and Trinity approached slowly, unwilling to alarm the woman sitting so trustingly out in the open. She finally sensed his approach, and when she turned her gaze to him briefly, he saw vivid green eyes before her gaze darted away. She was off the chair and down on her knees with her thin wrists raised upward to him as he stopped before her. Instinct told her he was a vampire and previous forced servitude propelled her to supplicate before him.
"Damnation, Miss Irene," Baptiste cussed, turning slowly.
Trinity knew Baptiste knew of his arrival and the young woman's actions. It dawned on Trinity that it was some sort of test Baptiste was trying. The woman named Irene whimpered and began to shake so badly that her raised arms wavered. "Miss Irene, you do not have to kneel or offer yourself like this anymore." Baptiste's voice softened.
"I'd not take your blood," Trinity offered. "Rise," he added, thinking to help Baptiste's cause. This only brought a wail from Irene as she rose high enough to scamper out of the laboratory and out into the shadows at the edges of the chamber.
"Ah, bloody hell,
" Baptiste expelled as both their gazes turned to watch her. "She thinks you are rejecting her blood like it's demeaning," he said, and then he added louder out into the shadows. "Not like you are giving her freedom."
Trinity shrugged, and pulled off the jacket he'd borrowed from Christian. "Do you have an extra shirt?"
Baptiste raised an eyebrow, propping his hip against the table he'd been working on as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You came here for a shirt?"
Trinity threw the jacket onto the table beside where he stood and he lifted his arms to stretch his tall body to the left, "For that, and some blood would be nice," he said leisurely, stretching his limbs to the right. He added aloud for the benefit of Irene, "But not fresh blood."
A little while later after he'd gotten a shirt and some of the stored blood they regularly received from doctors leeching patients, he and Baptiste sat on either side of a table.
"Dr. Latham said you've been giving them your blood." Trinity inclined his head toward the two humans hiding in the shadows.
"So you left us so quickly to fetch Doctor Latham to attend to that innocent, Lady Winslow?" Trinity shrugged, holding his brother's gaze. His brother's returning half-smile was indulgent. "All right then," Baptiste said slowly, "I've been administering vampire blood to several feeders."
"And?" Trinity asked.
"And," Baptiste emphasized. "I've notated a dozen effects."
"A dozen," Trinity muttered, scraping his jaw with his hand, and then he uttered, "I gave my blood to her."
"Lady Winslow?"
Trinity returned a temperate look. "It took her pain away, but …"
"She wanted more," Baptiste finished.
"What have I done?" Trinity's fist hit the tabletop rattling even the sturdy legs. He stood and paced away several steps, flinging his tangled blond hair back from his face before he paced back. "What is it about this one woman?"
He stopped before the table and watched Baptiste lean back in his chair with his gaze drifting toward Irene. "Some feeders I've given my blood to have had a different reaction. It's as if they've become addicted to it, while all others only mildly crave it, but enough that's easy for them to break the desire."
"Some?" Trinity questioned with a harsh voice.
Baptiste turned his gaze too glare up at him, as he uttered, "One." He grimaced, saying, "Just one."
Trinity's gaze jumped to Irene and she wailed, and then she ran out of sight into one of the cells. "Why?" Trinity asked with a crack in his voice.
"Even vampires need to find a mate. Perhaps, to someday procreate." Baptiste's handsome features looked like a battalion wall ready to defend his amazing conclusions.
"What?" Trinity shouted, on the edges of some beliefs he could barely believe or hope were true.
"No!" Baptiste exclaimed, standing, "I've not proven anything yet, just tossed out silly theories. It's bringing Miss Irene's mind back and I will break her of the addiction later."
"Is she a virgin?" Trinity asked roughly, but in a calmer voice.
"Nay," Baptiste answered, grasping the back of the chair to sit once again.
"But Lady Winslow tempted you. She tempted all of us." Trinity returned to sit, slowly.
"Aye," Baptiste nodded, "But while it was exquisitely tempting, it didn't look to me to be even half as much as it affected you."
"It was staggering." Trinity's lips settled into a grim line as he placed his elbows to the table. "It drove me to near insanity wanting to fuck her while at the same time suck her luscious hot blood. Blood so pure it brought me to my knees denying it."
"We've all had the driving need to bite as we ejaculate, I dare say." Baptiste's gaze trailed toward the cell that hid Irene.
"Yes, but only at the last, bursting instant. It's always gone in seconds and not a constant driving demand when just close to the woman." Trinity sighed, adding, "She's not the least bit affected by me."
Trinity heard Baptiste's surprised breath. "No entrancement?" Baptiste's voice sounded harsh as he reached to the left for a piece of parchment and a quill. He began writing on the parchment in a flurry. "She showed no signs of arousal, even though you were aroused —"
"I'm not your test subject," Trinity interrupted irritably. He added, "But my shaft was hard." He left the obvious unsaid, therefore my arousal should have affected her.
Baptiste paused with his quill raised above the parchment as the fingers on his other hand rubbed his temple. "Nothing I discover about vampirism is ever really constant, is it?" he muttered. He laid the quill down and both his hands came together on the tabletop as he sighed. "All right, brother to brother, the virgin temptation could easily point to the nature of the wickedness inside us instead of some predestined mate. You've sensed her above all others, and I might add it seemed as if it is the same way you sense us at times. This anomaly with Lady Winslow happened when she was in danger. Further, there's the point she's not affected by your aroused allure, when every other woman you tempt is. Times are changing, definitely changing."
"I'll never see her again," Trinity uttered, jerking his chin forward. "Then none of these troubling questions will matter," he finished flatly.
"But she'll continue to tempt you." Baptiste pinned him with a serious gaze.
"We live with and fight with constant temptation as it is." Trinity stood, breaking their locked gazes. "Just add another to the heap."
"But, what if she were your destined —" Baptiste started.
"Don't!" Trinity charged, "Dare go there."
Trinity moved the chair away, and then he asked in a quieter voice, "Can she survive the addiction to my blood, do you think?"
However, he knew the answer to that had not yet been tested.
Chapter Eleven