All four of the guys had weak heartbeats. Some of the wounds on their necks looked like the feeding frenzy of crazed animals. Stan’s sweet face was battered and bruised.
She knew she shouldn’t touch anything because the cops would give her shit for disturbing a crime scene, but she couldn’t stand to see her friends displayed in such a disrespectful and crude manner.
“Fuck the cops,” she muttered as she moved from body to body, making slight adjustments in their positions. She crooned soothingly to them as she worked, telling them help was on the way, and they’d be okay. She was rewarded by the occasional flutter of an eyelid or the movement of a finger.
Footsteps clattering up the stairs alerted her to the arrival of the ambulance and the city’s finest. Living close to a cop precinct finally paid off.
She tried to keep it together while the cops took her statement. She couldn’t let on that she had any clue about the perpetrators. Nobody would believe her anyway. They asked the same questions over and over, and she repeated the same story. Cops had a way of looking as if they didn’t believe a word you were saying, so she wasn’t sure if they didn’t buy her story or they were just being cops.
They must have been satisfied for the time being because they left her alone, propped against a wall in the corner. She watched theEMTs examine her friends, and her knees almost gave out in relief when she overheard them tell each other that all the victims should recover fully. One of them said he’d never seen so much blood loss and wondered about the holes in their necks. He whispered something about it being a vampire attack and then laughed.If he only knew. She sagged forward, dropping to her knees, the adrenaline rush diminishing. Her heart slammed in her chest, and she could feel the blood racing through her veins. She’d never been as heartbroken as when she thought Lauren and the guys were dead.
As they carried the last of her friends out of the apartment, one of the cops came and stood over her.
“Are you okay,miss ? Is there anyone I can call for you?”
She raised her eyes to his, a little ashamed of her previous harsh judgments.“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. I appreciate you asking, though.”
He nodded and moved toward the door, “We might have more questions, so let us know if you change locations.”
After she watched him leave, she scanned the room. It finally sank in that her apartment had been trashed and her friends brutalized. Was she going to change locations? Shit, yeah! She had no idea where she’d go, but she obviously couldn’t stay here. True, her bedroom probably wasn’t disturbed, or the bathroom, either, but that was beside the point. How could she stay in the place where thecocksucking vampires had attacked her friends? She was going to getQuade for this.Somehow.
She stared at a puddle of blood a couple of feet away and found herself crawling toward it. Her body moved of its own volition. Something about the crimson substance called to her. Without thinking, she stuck a finger in the center of the pool -- into the part that hadn’t started to thicken and congeal -- and scooped up some of the cool liquid. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, the finger made its way to her mouth. She sucked the blood and groaned. It tasted so good.
She trailed her finger through the puddle again and gasped, suddenly realizing what she’d done. Stunned, she leaped up and backed away. But even as she distanced herself, the blood craving increased. Just the small taste had done something to her senses, heightened them. She felt as if she’d done a line of coke.
“What the f**k is wrong with me?” she yelled. “What did those bloodsucking a**holes do to me?”
“What bloodsucking a**holes, dear?”
Tempest’s head jerked toward the high-pitched voice. Her elderly, gambling-addicted neighbor stood in the open doorway, gaping at the grisly sight.“Oh, my. Did you have another one of your wild parties? I thought I heard some carrying-on earlier. I’d just taken my medicine, though, so I couldn’t be sure it was actually happening. You’re going to have ahelluva time getting all those stains out of the carpet. You can kiss your security deposit goodbye.” The old woman raised her nose, sniffing. “I hate to say it, dear, but your housekeeping skills leave a lot to be desired. It smells awful in here. Would you like me to go get my air freshener? It works wonders when my boyfriend Carl comes to visit and eats too much Mexican food.”
“No, thanks, Mrs. Nelson.I’ll hire a cleaning service or something.” Tempest stepped in front of the old lady, blocking her view. She pushed the door closed, forcing the neighbor to back up. “I’ll try to keep the noise down. Have a nice evening.”
Tempest could hear Mrs. Nelson’s voice ranting on in the hallway. It was a good thing the nosy woman hadn’t dropped by during the “party” to see what was happening, or she’d be on her way to the emergency room, too.
The apartment really did have a strong odor, but Tempest had to admit she found it appealing. She closed her eyes and sniffed, having the same pleasant reaction she’d had only a week ago to Lauren’s special lasagna. A sharp pain in her stomach doubled her over. What the hell? She’d gone without food for days before and never felt like this.
Forgetting about the state of the living room, she stumbled into the kitchen to forage for food. She had to get her shit together. Maybe she was pre-diabetic orsomething, and that was why she was so whacked out. The refrigerator was full of junk food, a sure sign that the band members had been there. She pulled a leg from a bucket of fried chicken and sank her teeth into the greasy flesh. Within seconds of finishing, a wave of nausea crashed over her, and she leaned into the sink and vomited. The chicken bone fell out of her hand with athunk .
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Out of habit, she cupped her hand and held it under the water, filling it. She slurped the cold liquid and then heaved again.
Fear radiated down her spine. She knew anger was her favorite way to deal with being scared, so she kicked the cabinet under the sink, splintering the wood. Shocked, she stood back and stared at the damage. “Fuck! I’ve kicked that cabinet lots of times, and it never broke. What else can go wrong today?”
Tempest knew better than to ask that question. There was always another pile of shit waiting to be stepped in. She glanced down at her bloodstained clothes and decided she could deal with being in the apartment long enough to shower and change. On her way to her bedroom, she got distracted by a wide circle of blood on the coffee table. Quicker than her brain could react, she bent down and licked the blood from the table.All of it. Then, caught up in the mindless frenzy, she sought out another pool of red and drank.
What a rush. She’d never felt so alive, so powerful.
Excited and entranced, she discovered that using her nose to scent the blood was quicker than using her eyes, and she found several more pools of her friends’ blood. Part of her brain struggled to make her stop, to realize the obscenity of what she was doing, but some other wild part urged her on. Her new liquid diet obviously agreed with her, because her stomach settled and felt great.
After she found all the still-wet spots, she strode into the bedroom, licking her lips. The room had been tossed. She wasn’t Susie Homemaker, but she usually made her bed and straightened up, lining her acoustic guitar collection neatly in a row against the wall. She specifically remembered doing that before leaving for the last gig, because she had expected to get lucky. Yeah, she got something, but luck wasn’t involved.
All the covers had been pulled off the bed, and her guitars were everywhere. One of her band photos, a provocative, nearly-nude pose of her caressing her black Fender electric, was on her pillow, and a large stain decorated the center of the sheet. The scent was immediately recognizable. Out of habit, she bent down and sniffed. Guy cum.Somebody had jerked off on her bed. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it had beenQuade . The a**hole had left his calling card.
With a new sense of urgency, she peeled off the soiled clothes and headed into her small bathroom. It didn’t look like the fiends had messed with anything there. Instead of the longest hot shower ever, she took the quickest. There was no window in the bathroom, and she didn’t know what time it was, but she definitely needed to be elsewhere by dark.Assuming, of course, that the f**king vampires couldn’t rise from the dead before then. She wrapped her hair in a towel, stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself , trying to figure out what looked different. Her skin was pale, but that could be due to the barfing thing. The bags under her eyes were big enough to pack all her furniture in, but she could write that off to lack of sleep. No. It was something about her mouth. She bared her teeth and was startled to see her canines extended down farther than usual.
She stared at the strange teeth and then closed her eyes, falling back on her childhood trick of wishing the bad thing away by refusing to acknowledge it. She tried pretending the teeth weren’t there, but no amount of wishful thinking made them appear normal. Her canines were just a bit too long.And stained.
In fact, she had blood at the gum line and between her teeth. She was torn between being grossed out by the sight and feeling hungry for more.
They really had done something to her, changed her. The thought was terrifying and arousing. There had to be some way to stop the process, to get back to normal. She hadn’t lied toMalveaux when she said she didn’t want to be a vampire. She’d rather die.
Tempest stared at the reflection of her eyes. The harsh light made them appear dark, cold, and empty. If eyes were the window to the soul, night had fallen deep inside her. How the f**k was she supposed to deal with that?
Staring into the mirror reminded her of the common belief that vampires don’t have a reflection.
Malveaux hadn’t mentioned anything about that and, since she could still see herself, maybe that idea was another myth like the religious stuff. Or maybe the image didn’t disappear until her body was dead. Either way, she didn’t want to think about it.
After a moment, she tore her gaze away, walked into her bedroom, and examined the closet. Most of her jeans were in the laundry basket, so she grabbed the new ones she’d been saving for a special occasion. Fighting for her life probably qualified as some kind of occasion. She had no idea where she was going or what would happen, but she’d be warm. The ugly, bulky sweater Stan had given her for one holiday or another went on over a politically incorrect T-shirt, and she covered her feet with thick socks and running shoes.
Tempest was still perched on the edge of the bed, tying her shoes, when she sensed them. There wasn’t any physical evidence -- no sounds-- but she knewQuade and his bloodsucking demons were near. She ran to the bedroom window and stared at the streetlights glowing in the darkness. How could it possibly be dark already? Had she blacked out or something? How long had she been sucking blood off the floor in the living room? She couldn’t believe she’d just asked herself that.
She whirled around to grab her coat and run, and there he was, smiling his demented smile. He wore black leather tonight, and his blond hair still stood up in little spikes. She froze. Her brain went on a side-trip, thinking about leather being easier to clean blood from than cloth. He must have messed with her head.
His depraved smile widened. “I knew you’d be here. We left your friends barely alive, a little gift for you, but we both know why you’re really here. That little taste of my blood made you desire me even more, didn’t it? Too bad we won’t have time to f**k around before you die. But then maybe I shouldn’t be hasty. Perhaps I should just turn you. I think you’d hate that more. You’re already half-way there, I’d say, judging by the length of your teeth.” He moved a few steps closer and grabbed for her.
Reflexes are a great thing, especially martial-arts trained reflexes, even with vampireju-ju clogging her brain. Tempest jumped backwards, grasped the neck of one of her acoustic guitars, swung it, and bashedQuade upside the head. A chord -- a C-sharp-diminished, if she wasn’t mistaken -- pulsed through the air. She thought about how cool it was that she knew the actual sound a guitar made when it crashed against a bloodsucker’s head. Okay. Her brain was still staring at its navel.
He stumbled back briefly, more from surprise than pain, and bared his teeth. He lunged again, and she whirled the guitar, this time clipping his shoulder. The force of the impact broke the curvy body of the instrument, separating it from its neck, and she was left holding a stick trailing nylon strings.
All the vampires had crammed into the bedroom and stood behindQuade , appearing anxious and impatient, wanting their turns. One eager corpse surged forward, andQuade slapped him back, sending him reeling into the living room. “Get away! She’s mine!”
Quadegrinned, or whatever the evil-demon-from-hell version of a grin was, then opened his mouth wide enough for Tempest to watch his long, sharp fangs descend. She backed away, falling onto her bed. He laughed, rubbing his hand over the obvious erection in his leather pants. Quirking an eyebrow, he pulled the zipper down on his fly and propelled himself toward her. Simultaneously, she lifted the broken guitar neck like a sword and thrust it at his midsection. It was the forward motion of his leap -- not to mention luck -- more than her pretend sword wielding skills that caused the sharp end of the wood to sink into his upper stomach.
Quaderoared with rage, frowned down at the apparatus dangling from his gut, blood spurting from the wound, and went berserk. He didn’t even try to remove the guitar remains. He grabbed Tempest, lifted her into the air by the front of her sweater, and sank his fangs into her neck. She screamed, flailing in the air as he sucked the life force from her body, and then she finally went silent.Quade lowered her to the bed again and continued feeding.
Screams and shouts from the other room signaled a new development. Something was happening. The sounds started out as angry and threatening and then became fearful whimpers. Then there was nothing.