Dave Zeltserman - Blood Crimes Book One

“How do you know that?”

“Look at what he’s been doing. The way he’s been feeding. Going from city to city, leaving dead bodies-”

“How do you know that’s not just a smokescreen? That he’s not secretly building his own army and planning to come after us?”

Metcalf stopped to rub his temples. Her normally soft melodic voice had turned into a high-pitched nails-on-chalkboard type screech and it was giving him a headache.

“A little paranoid, are we? Come on, Serena, we both know it’s not in his nature-”

“You of all people! The most paranoid fuck alive, and you dare to call me that!”

Her voice had become like a tattoo needle the way it pricked at his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow down the throbbing deep in the back of his skull. Goddamn it! She knew she was full of shit, but he couldn’t argue with her. Technically she was right. The deal was no rogue vampires. Fucking bitch.

“Tell me how your private detective is going to flush him out,” he said as calmly as he could.

“Not to worry,” she cooed, her voice all at once back to its soft hypnotic tone. “It won’t draw us any attention. But we will be finding him soon.”

“If you say so.”

“Yes, my Darling, I do say so. And when we find him you will do as you promised?”

“Yeah.”

“Marvelous. Make sure to clear some space for him in that special room of yours. He’ll be a guest with you soon enough. Ta-ta for now.”

She hung up. Metcalf grimaced at the phone before slipping it back in his pocket. Nothing like a phone call from Serena to put him in the proper mood. In his mind’s eye he pictured her as one of his guinea pigs pinned to one of the lab tables. Ah fuck, the experiments he’d run on her. Thinking about it brought a thin smile to his lips, then he sighed and shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back on the present. A man can dream, can’t he? But Christ, thinking about what he would do to her did ease away some of the tension that had built up in his neck. He filled his lungs up, expanding his chest, and let loose one last sigh before turning back to his experiments.

Serena handed Zach her cell phone, then put her hands on her hips and stood naked examining herself in a full length antique mirror that was sheaved in decorative gold leaf and carvings of cherubs. Gregory and Wilfred relaxed behind her on eighteenth century red satin chaise lounges. The room they were in was mammoth in size-taking up the top floor of the seven story motel in Union Square that Serena had bought and converted six years earlier. With its Tommaso Geraci sculptures and Antonello de Messina paintings, along with its working stone fountain, the room could’ve been taken right out of a villa from her native Palermo, as opposed to a midtown Manhattan building.

“What do you think?” she asked them.

“A vision,” Zach said.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Gregory offered.

“Stunning,” Wilfred agreed. “Just looking at you is giving me a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Serena smiled at that. “Later, my darlings.” She had to agree with them. While her tits had shrunk to almost nothing, she had the long legs and thin narrow waist that would be the envy of any model. And her ass-she dared anyone to find a fifteen-year old girl with a smaller or tighter ass than hers! She turned enough so she could admire the way her hair flowed halfway down her back. Like with all vampires, the infection had turned it white but she dyed it the same coal-black it was before. For a few years she thought the white patch of pubic hair growing between her legs was an amusing contrast, but had since become self-conscious about it and was now keeping the area shaved. She liked the prepubescent look it gave her, and besides, it seemed to be the current style.

“So how was our brutish friend?” Zach asked.

“An absolute bore, but we have his blessing,” Serena said, laughing bitterly.

Gregory made a face. “It’s insane that we have to beg him for his permission.”

Serena took a deep breath, shrugged.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s out of New York,” Gregory added. “But if you ask me three thousand miles isn’t enough.”

“A few thousand more would be better,” she said, her smile as bitter as her laugh had been. “If only we could drop him in the middle of the Pacific. But to be fair he does serve his purpose.” She paused to press a hand over her stomach, feeling how completely flat it was without even the slightest bulge, then ran her hands over her narrow hips. Her smile grew. This infection did have its advantages. “What color do you think for tonight?” she asked the three other vampires.

“Mahogany would be sublime,” Wilfred suggested.

Zach nodded his approval.

Serena took several steps towards Zach so she could caress his cheek and brush her lips against his ear. “Be a dear,” she asked him. While Zach went searching for her mahogany-colored outfit, she joined Wilfred on his chaise lounge and draped one arm around his shoulder while settling in his lap. Both their hands wandered towards each others’ genitalia. As they caressed each other, Gregory watched and masturbated. Zach returned several minutes later holding a reddish brown pair of leather pants and shirt in one hand and a pair of boots in another. His eyes widened as he looked from Serena and Wilfred to Gregory, and then back.

“Once again I’ve been left out of the action,” he complained with a rueful smile.

“Oh Darling, don’t be such a spoilsport. We’ll find you a tight little thing for later tonight,” Serena said.

She unwrapped herself from Wilfred so that Zach and Gregory could pull the leather pants over her. After the pants were on, they zipped her shirt up from behind and then helped her with her knee-high stiletto boots. While they did this, Wilfred prepared the heroin. The leather fit Serena like a second skin, the outline of her navel and nipples clearly visible, as was the thin slit of her vagina. She ran a hand over the leather, feeling the softness of it. Zach and Gregory did the same. Wilfred brought over a mirror with thin lines of heroin dividing it. He snorted one of the lines before handing the mirror to Serena. She did her line and then passed the mirror on. After three passes each of the mirror, the heroin was gone. Serena ran her tongue over the polished glass to pick up any of the residue, then closed her eyes to feel the rush from the narcotic. A warmness flushed her skin bringing her body temperature temporarily above that of a corpse. She could feel her heartbeat slowing, and then the euphoria. The infection dulled the effects of narcotics and made overdoses impossible, but it still did some good. She opened her eyes and smiled at Zach, who smiled lazily back at her. She could see that his pupils were already starting to constrict.

“Ninotchka’s?” she asked them.

The other vampires nodded. Ninotchka’s was the current flavor of the month-one of Manhattan’s trendiest hotspots. In another hour or so the place would be jammed tight with the rich and beautiful crowd. The thought of being squeezed in among all that warm, hot flesh was intoxicating to Serena. She’d be so close to them she’d be able to hear their blood pulsating through their veins and their hearts beating like mad. Not that she would be feeding on any of them. The heroin would keep her hunger suppressed, besides she had a large enough supply of fresh blood as it was. Early on before Metcalf moved to the west coast, they maintained “cattle pens” and milked their cattle each day. Serena never liked that, it was such a bother having to dispose of the used up bodies. Once Metcalf left, she came to other arrangements, first buying blood under the table from several blood banks, then infecting her sources when they eventually tried to discontinue their arrangements. Enough blood was being delivered each day to keep the twenty-two vampires in the house well fed. All in all, she was much happier with the arrangement.