Dave Zeltserman - Blood Crimes Book One

She headed towards the elevator with her fellow vampires following behind, all their movements slower and more languid as the heroin took fuller effect.

“Just us four?” Zach asked.

“We’ll ask everyone tonight,” Serena said, her voice slowing to a soft drone.

Zach made a face, as did Wilfred. “Everyone?” Gregory asked. He shivered. “Some of them are just too embarrassing to be seen with.”

Serena touched him lightly on the face and gave him an apologetic smile. It was true. These three were infected for their company, and of course, the sex. Others were infected for different reasons, especially the ones who were wealthy and were made to transfer their funds to her. In her little hive all served a purpose.

“Darling, tonight is a night for celebration. Try to be magnanimous, won’t you?”

None of them argued with her. Not that it would’ve done any good.

Carol sat at the bar nursing her third shot of tequila. The place was one of those nondescript divey bars dotting East Cleveland that didn’t bother with music or entertainment and only served no-name brand alcoholic beverages and cheap beer. Dim fluorescent lights kept the room mostly in shadows, which was for the best: interiors of most condemned buildings looked better. It was an ugly concrete room with dirty floors and a ceiling that was crumbling apart and walls that were cracked and needed replastering. The only items decorating the walls were a broken Budweiser sign and a dingy mirror that badly needed cleaning and was hung behind the bar. It was the type of place Carol had become intimate with over the last three years, a place for alcoholics, drug addicts and degenerates. No one else would have any reason to drink there. Other than Carol there were four other people at the bar, another couple of dozen sitting at tables and a few others standing sullenly as they tipped back beer bottles and stared with predatory eyes at the few women in the room. Ever since Carol took a seat at the bar she could feel those predatory eyes boring into the back of her head.

She readjusted herself on her barstool. Thick layers of duct tape had been used to cover the seat where it had been torn, and a piece of the tape had curled up and was prodding her in a sensitive area. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought of that. In a dump like this it would figure. A quick glance to either side of her showed that most of the other barstools had also been repaired with duct tape. Again, no surprise. A lovely establishment; the type of place where furniture got busted up and hastily repaired. The room reeked of stale beer, body odor and despair.

Carol lit a cigarette and blew some smoke from the side of her mouth, anything to get the taste of the room out of her throat. Her face froze as she caught a look of herself in the bar mirror. Under her red wig, her face had a washed out, tired look. Fuck, who could blame her? The guys in the bar, though, weren’t going to pay too much attention to a woman’s face, and Carol’s body, while thin, still looked damn good in a pair of very tight shorts that covered maybe an inch of her thigh and a tank top that exposed her belly along with a diamond stud piercing. Half the men in the place had already tried coming on to her, but she blew them off. She had her eye on one guy in particular; the one that Jim picked out when the two of them were camped out in their car across the street. Jim had good intuition about these things, and the more she watched the guy the more she was convinced Jim was right once again.

The guy, who Carol heard addressed as Duane, was talking to a nearly skeleton-thin woman who had the pale drawn look of a drug addict. As thin and haggard as she was she could’ve been anywhere from thirty to sixty. From what Carol could hear of their conversation, Duane had given her drugs recently and wanted services in lieu of payment, and she just wanted him to get lost-that she already made the mistake of fucking him once and she wasn’t going to do it again. He was a big man with a thick body, and he had a large ham hock-sized hand wrapped around her upper arm. She was trying to break free, but didn’t have a chance. With the way his face darkened, Carol had the impression that he was moments away from dragging the woman to the men’s room to force payment. His voice got too low for Carol to hear what he was saying, and the woman started to look badly scared. While he talked to the woman, he kept leering over at Carol. She caught his eye in the bar mirror and smirked at him. He did kind of a double take, making sure he saw what he thought he saw, then with a wolfish grin pushing up his thick lips, he let go of the woman he had been so intent with seconds before, and walked over to Carol. He stood so his body touched hers. Out of the corner of her eye, Carol could see the other woman glancing back nervously as she fled the bar.

“Cleveland’s got a smoking ban,” he said.

“Is that so?”

She blew smoke toward him. That amused the hell out of him. His grin grew more wolfish and he showed off small corn kernel-sized teeth. She couldn’t believe how small those teeth were, especially given how big the guy was. They were like fucking baby teeth. She couldn’t help smiling at that.

Duane mistook the reason for her smile.

“You see something you like?”

“Maybe.”

He edged closer to her. “You gonna keep smoking?”

“I have to. I have this oral fixation. I have to suck on something.”

He was close enough so that his groin pushed against her thigh. Fuck, she was glad she was breathing in cigarette smoke, otherwise she’d be gagging. The guy smelled like shit-like he had crapped in his pants days ago and never realized it. His breath was almost as putrid.

“How about I give you something else to suck on?” Duane said, his lips set in a heavy leer, his eyes dulling.

She downed the rest of her drink. “Buy me another drink and I’ll suck on that.”

He laughed, but it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. He waved over the bartender.

“Hank, set this pretty lady with whatever she’s drinking.”

“Tequila,” Carol said.

“Tequila,” Duane repeated.

The bartender gave Carol a wary look. He’d been flirting unsuccessfully with her earlier, and she knew he wanted to warn her not to have anything to do with Duane, but he poured her a fresh shot of tequila and took the ten dollars Duane gave him. The bartender started to make change, but Duane told him to keep it. He kept his attention focused on Carol, and began stroking her thigh with a thick index finger.

“You got one smokin’ body, little lady,” he said.

She gave him a hard smile and blew more smoke in his face. He smiled the way a snake might stare at a small rodent, then took her cigarette from her fingers and flicked it to the floor before stubbing it out with his heel.

“I got something much better for you to suck on,” he said softly, a glint of violence in his eyes. “What do you say, little lady?”

“Charming. You mean right here in front of everyone?”

He laughed, gave a look towards the men’s room. “Nah, no need for a show. You and me can step into my private office. Then we can go back to my place and have us a special little party.”

She gave him a cool look, then reaching for his pants, she pulled his loose fitting chinos out enough so she could dump her shot of tequila in them.

“What the fuck?” he yelped, jumping back a step.

“Go fuck yourself,” Carol told him. “You think buying me a drink gives you the right to ask me to suck you off? I got news for you, asshole, you smell like shit.”

Duane stood frozen for a long few seconds, violence hardening his features.

“Uh, uh, you little bitch,” he said, shaking his head. He grabbed Carol by her upper arm the same as he did the other woman, and started to jerk her off the stool. “The skank ho’ I was going to fuck is gone ’cause of you, so you’re it. And you know why I smell like shit? Because you’re smelling my dick. I like to fuck little tight bitches like you up the ass so hard that the shit comes pouring out of them. So what’s it going to be, bitch? You going to take it willingly up the butt-hole all night, or do I got to knock your pretty little teeth out and carry you out of here? And if you think anyone here’s gonna give a shit-”