Part 1 (2/2)

He laughs. Have you decided yet who I am, Loverboy? Snow White or Rose Red? Madonna or Magdalene?

He makes his move, baring his teeth. His nicotine yellowed nails dig into my arms. Stubble sc.r.a.pes like sandpaper on my face and my head throbs harder. Saliva flows into my mouth. I shudder in antic.i.p.ation. Not much longer now.

He laughs again as his fingers slither to the b.u.t.tons of my blouse. His breath smells of nicotine and cheap booze. The silk slips from my shoulders and he grasps my bared b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I can't help the moan. He breathes encouragement and buries his head in my cleavage, probing with tongue and lips. The bony tip of his nose jabs into my sternum. encouragement and buries his head in my cleavage, probing with tongue and lips. The bony tip of his nose jabs into my sternum.

Just play along a little more, Mia. He's almost where you want him. Lean your head against his. Close your eyes and breathe in deeply, ah, that yummy iron scent. Twine your fingers in the slippery hair and clasp him just a little bit closer. His breath is so hot on my body.

Feel the heartbeat, lub dub, lub dub, pumping blood to all parts of his body? Kiss that little pulsing spot on his throat. Just run the tongue over the ear and that slim cord beneath the salty flesh. Try that little trick with your hand.

He groans, nuzzling his face into my neck and pushes me down to the mattress. Thinks he's pretty strong, does he? Throw him off! Look at his face! He's p.i.s.sed now. He b.a.l.l.s his fist and draws back to punch. Raise your hand at us, animal? Go on, slug him in the face! He's down! Red spray! Blood! Blood!

He rips off his belt and gets up, slapping leather against his hand. Delicious red streams from his nose and down his chin as he closes in.

Reach for the throat now! Easy, don't crush it; the arterial spray is so much nicer when intact. Slam your quarry hard against the wall. Crack the head. Ah more blood, hot and syrupy sweet! Tighten the grip. Grab his b.a.l.l.s, squeeze hard. Bring him close to the face. Slam him again, harder and show him the old pearly whites. That move always makes them wet themselves.

No screams? Is it hard to breathe? Why would I have sympathy for you? I'm the Bird of Prey! You're just a bleeding hunk of fles.h.!.+ One small kiss and then goodnight... Surprised you, huh? Just a little sting, you hardly felt it. Not quite what you had in mind for this mouth? Terrified? Very nasty demons haunt you. They're coming for you. They have you in their grasp. There's no escape.

Try all you want but you can't get away. Ah, your flavor! I love the would-be predators, just the right bouquet. Red heat burns through me! Jet fuel! I soar!

What's that music on TV? Ave Maria, that's Pavarotti. Is it Christmas? s.h.i.+t. Papa sang it at midnight ma.s.s- that last one we had together.

Ave Maria, gratia plene Dominus tec.u.m Bendicta tu in mulieribus Et benidictus, fructus ventris tui Jesus Now you'll be a f.u.c.king, crying mess! Come on focus... focus on the scent. Iron! Salt! This is what we live eternally for. Shut it out! It's just a song. Go on, drink it all down. Hot, red delicious life!

Sancta Maria Sancta Maria Ora pro n.o.bis...

n.o.bis peccatoribus Nunct et in hora...

My head is clear now. I'm cozy and warm. Loverboy ceases to struggle. Mmm... Life ebbs away so easily, it's all mine now. You're all limp and senseless, Loverboy. Someone should pray for you.

”In hora mortis nostrae. Amen.”

Stop that c.r.a.p! But Papa left me so young. No one kept the demons away. Ah, come off it. You accepted the gift with open arms. Enjoy the ride, sweetheart.

I feel so old, so tired all of the sudden. I'll just lie down and enjoy the warmth, all those little drops of delight dancing in the cells. It's one h.e.l.l of an o.r.g.a.s.m. Too bad there isn't one of our own kind to consecrate this sacrament. One need satisfied and the other already troubling us.

Who's that? An apparition... an angel... or maybe the G.o.d of love? Lovely as the dawn surrounded by cascades of blood red flowers... I'm free now! Look! The sunrise and the beach are here, just like Brovik promised. Your breath and lips fall warm on my throat. Your weight on my body is lighter and sweeter than Ethan's ever was. Kurt, mio amore, spirit me away from the darkness.

Wake up! He's far from an angel. They're all the same. You fell for those big baby blues like a fool. Can't waste time on wet dreams of Brovik's little boy-toy.

No relief tonight. Or G.o.d knows when. What time is it? I must have drifted off. There's work to be done before I can indulge in hopeless dreams.

Yuck. Got to get rid of this thing on the bed, it already stinks. It's revolting. It was bad enough alive but dead it's even uglier. Eyes clouded, mouth open in a silent scream, it gets more disgusting by the minute.

I'll just rifle through the pockets and find enough money to get a a hotel room. Nice black leather wallet, a little shy of thirty bucks in it. Not enough to get a room in New York, not at any hotel I know of. Leave it to me to choose the only pimp in New York with no money in his pocket. But I really didn't have the luxury to shop around under the circ.u.mstances. Ah well, we'll have to improvise. hotel room. Nice black leather wallet, a little shy of thirty bucks in it. Not enough to get a room in New York, not at any hotel I know of. Leave it to me to choose the only pimp in New York with no money in his pocket. But I really didn't have the luxury to shop around under the circ.u.mstances. Ah well, we'll have to improvise.

Well, well what have we here? A Rolex, a real one. Well, it seems the vermin had expensive tastes. Something else to p.a.w.n. Also a gold chain around its neck and one diamond stud in its ear. That will help too. Maybe there's something to say for jewelry after all.

Don't forget the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. Toss them on top of the corpse. Add the overcoat and suit jacket to the pile. Wrap the entire thing up in the bedspread. What time is it? cigarettes from the nightstand. Toss them on top of the corpse. Add the overcoat and suit jacket to the pile. Wrap the entire thing up in the bedspread. What time is it?

The Rolex says it's just after four. Guess I rested a little longer than I thought. After a kill I just feel like lounging for a while to savor the experience. Like a smoke after s.e.x? Filthy habit. Smoking that is, the other I like too much.

Here comes the hairy part. One can't leave corpses lying about all over Manhattan. Don't provide fodder for the tabloids. One must clean up after meals. That's the rule. Ethan did teach something of value. I may be just a tad rebellious but this is one custom I understand.

Okay, throw the the bundle over the shoulder. Did I forget anything? Nope. All nice and tidy. Open the door, quietly now and pause a moment to listen, nothing, not a creature stirring except for a vampire. This place reeks of bodily fluids, blood, urine and eau de amour. Close the door, good, not a sound. Down the hall to the back stairs, what you're seeking will bundle over the shoulder. Did I forget anything? Nope. All nice and tidy. Open the door, quietly now and pause a moment to listen, nothing, not a creature stirring except for a vampire. This place reeks of bodily fluids, blood, urine and eau de amour. Close the door, good, not a sound. Down the hall to the back stairs, what you're seeking will be found in the bas.e.m.e.nt. be found in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

This won't ever get any easier will it? Kill, eat and dispose, no one else around to help with the unpleasant details, Sweetpea.

These stairs are steep and kind of slippery. Jesus, don't they ever clean anything around here? The cobwebs have a distinctly ancient look to them, right out of the late-late show. I hope to h.e.l.l the bas.e.m.e.nt door isn't locked. That could make a lot of unwelcome noise.

Okay, here goes nothing. Good, it's unlocked. It's dark. I'll wait a moment for the eyes to adjust to the darkness. There it is. Incinerators leave too much behind, Ethan always said, but this one was a sc.u.mbag. Lots of people hated him. Who thinks twice about a wasted pimp? Or a cast off concubine for that matter?

Don't start now. Christ, he'll never fit in one piece. I can jam the legs in just a little further, but the arms will have to come off. Remember the way he taught you? Knife through the tendons, between the joint, just like boning a chicken. There. Nice work. All blood is gone, no muss, no fuss. A fitting epitaph? Burn in h.e.l.l little man.

What's this sensation running through me? Is this freedom? Freedom! You're free at last, little girl! Ethan said you couldn't do it.

”Ethan, you colossal p.r.i.c.k, I'll survive to see you rot. It'll take a h.e.l.l of lot more than you to kill me.”

ONE.

Genpath Laboratories, Southern California, 2000.

Joe wasn't happy. The neuroscientist's plans for a relaxing evening with his girlfriend were just ruined by Lydia Loy, his boss. Slamming the door to Lydia's office, he stalked down the hall to the security desk where a beefy, young red-haired man sat eating Chinese ramen soup from a Styrofoam cup.

”Where's the sergeant?”

The guard looked up, broth and undulating noodles dribbling down his chin, at the tall, dark, angry man in front of him. ”Upstairs.”

”Get him down here.”

”He's got rounds.”

”Get him the f.u.c.k down here, now!”

”Yes, Doctor.” The guard picked up the phone and hit a b.u.t.ton. ”Sarge? Kramer here. You're needed. Nah, she's the same. One of the Docs... I'll tell him... ” The guard looked up at Joe. ”He'll be down in about twenty minutes.”

”It's imperative I see the female subject immediately. Tell him now or I'll report him to Dr. Loy.”

”It's real important Sarge... Right, I'll tell him.” The guard hung up the receiver. ”He's coming.”

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