Paranormal Romance: Gehenna (Chapter Three) PG13
Title: Gehenna (Chapter Three)
Author: HelenT
Rating: PG13
Genre(s) : Paranormal Romance/angst/action
Summary: Whatever she’d been expecting of Hell it wasn’t what Liz Grant found. People and demons alike can be predator or victim. Caught between opposing sides in a fight for eternal life or eternal death, she has no option but to throw caution to the wind.
Disclaimer Characters and plot remain the property of the owner (me).:)
Link to Prologue and chapter one
Link to Chapter Two
CHAPTER THREE
The moment he'd spotted the woman, Michael had felt a punch of shock deep in his gut. Aaron’s cryptic statement about good deeds leapt to the forefront of his mind as he watched her walk with the older man across the dark, deserted car park. What the hell was she doing here? He’d had no trouble recognising her. Elizabeth Grant. The media had run the story of her arrival, and his actions, for weeks. The unwanted attention had been a major pain in the ass. Standing in the shadows, he’d cursed under his breath knowing that the last thing he’d needed right now was that kind of trouble. If he’d had any sense he would have picked one of the others to get the information he wanted. Apparently, he had no sense. He knew where she lived and his airbike was a great deal faster than any car. He reached her building several minutes before she did.
Gaining entry was ridiculously easy. He might have died when the world was still considered to be flat, but a millennia was more than enough time to pick up the skills needed to bypass an electronic security system. Her apartment was small, neat and utterly female with its attention to colour and comfort. The living room was filled with squashy cushioned seating, scattered with even more cushions. Her furniture was mostly polished wood and there was artwork on the walls. It even smelled like a female-soaps, lotions and all the other perfumed stuff they insisted on using. The scents made him wonder how soft and silky her skin would be. The errant thought just slipped into his mind, surprising him. He pushed it out by doing a quick scout of the rest of the apartment. It didn’t take long. The kitchen and bathroom were modern and utilitarian. The bedroom made a similar cosy statement as the living room.
Then she’d come in. She didn’t notice him because she by-passed the living room to head straight for her bedroom. She’d been too busy grumbling away to herself to notice anything amiss. From his vantage point, he could see that the mass of thick sable brown hair was already released from its tight constraints. He’d watched her shed her wet, enveloping smock, obviously heading for dry clothes. As there was no such thing as a subtle approach when invading someone’s home, he didn’t even try for one. He simply stepped into the hall behind her and grabbed her arm to swing her around, announcing himself with sarcasm.
Two seconds ticked loudly by.
Hazel eyes the size of saucers stared up at him. Like a switch had been flipped, fear leeched the colour out of her face. She seemed to shrink and she was already tiny with the top of her head barely reaching his breastbone. Terror, ripe and pungent, filled the air. When she sucked in a shuddering breath and opened her mouth, he knew what was coming. He clamped his other hand over her lips and jaw, locking the scream in her throat. His hand was big enough to cover the lower half of her face.
“Don’t scream,” he warned her. “I’m not here to hurt you. All I want is information and, once I’ve got it, I’m out of here.”
He wondered if his words got through the blind panic he could feel gripping her. He found out when she twisted away, whipping up a hand hard and fast, aiming for his ear. It could have been a disabling move on a human. Instead of simply blocking the blow, Michael went for the shock factor. Using the arm he still had a hold on, he spun her so that her back was to his front and lifted her. It took three strides to enter the living area and half a dozen more to reach the couch. He had her face down on the cushions with him sitting by her hip, using his upper body weight to pin her, before her stunned mind had even registered that her feet had left the floor. The moment her brain caught up with events, she started to thrash-or tried to. He waited until she gave up and went still before speaking again.
“That was a dumb move, Ms Grant,” Michael growled in her ear. “Haven’t you heard that vampires are fast?”
She moved her head to the side so that she could breathe, trapping strands of long hair and creating a screen for her face. She was panting, not just due to exertion and lack of air, but also because of sheer, black fear. This time when she looked at him her eyes were glassy with shock. For some reason her reaction annoyed the heck out of him. Had he given her any reason to fear him? He didn’t think so. He levered upright and stood, releasing her. “Don’t move and don’t scream,” he warned in a hard, menacing tone. This time she obeyed him.
Like a cornered animal, she watched his every move as if frozen in place on the coach. He could hear her heart thundering as he slowly backed away a few paces. “All I want is information,” he repeated, letting impatience creep into his tone. “If you don’t make any more stupid moves, I won’t even touch you.”
He could see her processing his words, weighing them for truth. “What kind of information?” she rasped.
“I want the victim details and locations of these murders the DCD are investigating.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her as closely as she was watching him.
Jerkily she sat up, a frown creasing her brows. “Why? So you can gloat over your kills. That’s unbelievably sick even for a vampire.”
“I didn’t kill them, so sick doesn’t come into it. I want to find the killer and I need some reference points to start looking. You can give them to me. If I could get the details elsewhere I wouldn’t be here.”
The frown stayed. “They have you on CCTV.” She said it almost accusingly.
He shook his head. “No. They only think that it was me.”
“Are you saying that the killer is wearing some kind of disguise that makes him look like you?”
“I didn’t say that. I don’t know why the son of a bitch is doing what he’s doing-I’ll ask when I find him.”
Silence fell. She tilted her head, looking at him intently with those gold and green eyes. For the first time, Michael was struck with how pretty she was-a fact not obvious before because she’d either been covered in gloop or utterly petrified. Fine-boned features gave her a fey and yet earthy appearance; which, added to a thick, brown mane of hair tumbling around her shoulders made for a fetching sight. She looked younger than twenty-eight years of age. Unluckily for Ms Grant it didn’t change a damn thing. Centuries of sordid indulgence had jaded him to the point of indifference. To him, sex was just another meaningless, basic bodily need and he took care of it with whatever willing female was handy. A pretty face no longer moved him.
She was taking too long to respond. He took a step towards her, halving the distance, and hunkered down. They were on a level now. “Don’t think I’m making a polite request here, Ms Grant. Refusing to answer or lying to me would also count as a stupid move. I might not have come here to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” It was the cold, flat truth and he could see from the way her eyes flared that she realised it. To allay any more doubts, he added silkily, “All it would take is one bite and then everything you’ve ever heard about hell will come true.”
~o~
Liz’s mouth went dry at the palpable menace emanating from him. His face was hard, dark eyes cold. Facts that she’d learned as part of her job ran swiftly through her mind. A vampire bite wasn’t limited to just taking blood. Through tiny channels in their fangs, a vampire could deliver a range of different venoms, including one to induce horrific visions, agonising pain and eventually death.
There was one thing wrong with that scenario though. Liz firmed her jaw and refused to let her spine turn to jelly. “Only fully changed vampires can produce the venoms. You aren’t fully changed.”
“Wrong. Wanna put it to the test?”
She wondered which part he was refuting; that only fully changed vampires could poison humans, or that he wasn’t full changed himself? His eyes still looked human so she was betting on the first.
She was certain that he hadn’t lied about not being the killer, or contrarily, his willingness to hurt her to get the information he wanted. He hadn’t been bluffing and irrationally it hurt. Thane might not be a chowing down on humans yet, but he was still a harsh and dangerous individual, moreover, one with a capacity for brutality that she would be a fool to underestimate. He was also intelligent, making him even more dangerous.
Did she really have a choice?
“I can’t tell you much until I review the data file I’ve been given. I was only brought into the investigation tonight,” she warned him.
“Where is the data file?”
Sitting up on the coach, Liz dug into her trouser pocket and pulled out the tiny device. “Right here.”
She felt him relax even though his expression remained emotionless. “Where’s your PC?” he asked her. Liz pointed to the decoratively carved wooden writing desk behind him. It had a slide-down lockable front that concealed the technology from view. She liked her home to look like a home and not an office. The apartment might be small but it was her nest. She’d indulged herself when decorating the living room and bedroom, using an abundance of rich colours and soft, silky textures.
Half an hour later, Liz was still sitting motionless in a chair in full view of her ‘captor’ while he scrolled through the detailed files now up on her screen. She’d considered and then discarded the idea of trying to make a dash for the door. What was the point? She wasn’t an idiot. He’d catch her before she’d gone four steps. Maybe she was being foolishly trusting, but she believed that once he was finished he’d leave just as he’d said he would. Unfortunately, that belief didn’t improve her frame of mind much. With nothing else to do, Liz had used the time to study him.
He really was as big and intimidating as she remembered. Most men of exceptional height were also thin; Thane was powerfully built without looking hulking or brutish. His dark hair was cut short and to the shape of his head, which, added to his modern style of clothing; jeans, t-shirt and the obligatory black leather jacket and boots, meant he could pass as a twentieth-century man. The only odd note was the ring. His hands were as large as the rest of him, offset by long fingers that made them look graceful in a purely masculine way. The ring on his right forefinger was silver, wide and engraved with symbols she couldn’t make out.
Pride, horribly late in rearing its head, made Liz ensure that her study of him remained a purely clinical recording of details. Unfortunately, she couldn’t ignore how strong had been her initial relief at finding out that he wasn’t the killer. In less than an hour, she’d gone from utter terror to dizzying relief to an odd sense of limbo. It had taken some serious effort, but she’d been able to read Thane. Yet, apart from the certainty that he hadn’t been lying, there was little else reassuring. If the man felt much about anything then those emotions were buried too deep for her to sense-hence the limbo. Her mood darkened with that thought. Why, oh why had she let herself dwell on this cold, uncaring man for so long? It was galling to admit that she’d wanted him to be something out of the ordinary as far as vampires go-she’d had this secret, pathetic little fantasy that there was something decent and worthwhile left in him, and rejected all of the evidence against it.
Like she was any judge. God. What an idiot! Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as she’d hoped she had.
Her past was littered with atrocious personal judgement and semi-abusive, destructive relationships on every level. She’d searched desperately for love in all of the wrongs places and in all of the wrongs ways, and ended up condemning herself. Was she really going to let herself continue that pathetic, self-abasing pattern in hell too? The limbo lifted enough for her to feel the humiliation it disguised.
Not a chance, she resolved.
Maybe she should be grateful, she told herself, humourlessly. Liz hugged her chilled body with tense arms. If nothing else this second meeting had shown her what Thane truly was-cold to the bone. That fantasy bubble she’d been living inside was well and truly burst. At least in Gehenna she was lucky enough to learn he wasn’t worth her time before she did something stupid, like really care. Her shaky sense of self-esteem was safe. Thanks be to God.
She was so mired in her grim thoughts that she didn’t notice that he’d transferred the data to storage device of his own. At least, not until he stood up and tucked it inside his inside jacket pocket. They locked eyes. “I’m done,” he said simply.
Despite herself, Liz tensed, braced for the proof that she'd been wrong to trust him. Obviously sensing her reaction, Thane's lips curved wryly and he tipped her a mocking salute. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see myself out.”
Liz remained silent and stayed in the chair as he did exactly that. Once the door had shut behind him, she slumped and held a trembling hand to her abruptly reawakened headache.
O~o~O
Michael scouted out all of the killing sites listed in the DCD files. He wasn’t expecting to find any trackable signs of Tracey and so wasn’t disappointed that there were none. He was looking for patterns, similarities between the victims and locations that would give him insights into who or where might be targeted next time. Either that, or an idea of where the asshole was staying. He concentrated most of his time on the first two sites. Uruk was a decidely rough and dangerous quadrant deep into the Old Quarter, and the slightly more civilised Gilgamesh bordered the newer, classical ancient regions. He himself lived only a short, one hundred and fifty kilometre hop from Gilgamesh-no distance at all on an airbike.
The murder scenes in both were little more than squalid flops. The worst was in Uruk. Bare stone made up the walls with a stinking hole in one corner for a toilet. The tiny chamber reeked of raw sewage. The only furniture was a single, stained mattress and a rickety table bundled with rags. It was one of a hundred or so in the same dark, dank, rabbit-warren of a building. The empty-eyed inhabitants hadn’t even glanced at him as he wandered around. They didn’t give a rats ass that a woman had suffered and died here.
A part of Michael wondered why he cared. The only answer he could come up with was that he hated knowing that the last face these women saw before dying was identical to his own. He hadn’t turned into a killer yet, damn it! Yet many were seeing him as such. Elizabeth Grant had believed it, until he’d let her sense enough of his emotions that she found out otherwise. He’d known she was an empath. In fact, he knew a lot more about her than he should do. Michael had kept a distant track of her for reasons he’d given up trying to fathom. But, he wasn’t into quid-pro-qou. Once he’d convinced her that he wasn’t the killer, he’d locked his emotions down again. If she’d sensed how unstable he was lately, she might not have agreed to hand over the information-and he…disliked the idea of hurting her.
Gilgamesh had been a little more illuminating. People and vampires that he knew and had business dealings with him, suddenly found the need to avert their faces and avoid him. Just for the hell of it, and because it was pertinent, he decided to corner a few to question them on this new, unsociable attitude.
His first choice was a little rat of a vampire called Lunzo.
Michael followed him into the dancing club, Chaldean Queen. There was a bar on the left and the rest of the floor space was taken up by patrons avidly watching the antics taking place on the four raised and spot-lit stages. The stages came complete with poles and naked women gyrating to the frantic rhythm created by lutes, reed pipes and drums. Lunzo, aware of who was trailing him, tried to lose Michael in those same crowds. Cutting him off and catching him up on the far side, Michael grabbed Lunzo by the scruff of the neck, lifting him several inches of the floor and slammed them both through the emergency exit. The corridor beyond was already in use, but it took only one frigid glance from Michael to convince the half-dressed couple they’d be safer back in the club. Kicking his legs and swearing foully, Lunzo reminded Michael of a worm wriggling on the end of a hook.
Irritated, Michael raised him higher and shook him. “Shut your mouth, Lunzo, before you really piss me off.”
Watery, red-rimmed eyes glared at him. “Well, excuse me. I’ll just hang here then. I ain’t done nuffink. Mindin’ me own wasn’t I? What you want?”
“I want to know why you took off in the opposite direction the moment you saw me?”
“What avoid a sociable, friendly bloke like yourself?” retorted Lunzo, sarcastically, “What’s a man wanta do that for, eh?”
Considering Michael still had him hanging from the collar of his jacket, he had to concede the point. He dropped the other vampire. “As far as I can remember, you haven’t done anything recently to need to duck out of sight when I turn up. Call me Mr Sensitive, but I’d like an explanation.”
Petulantly, Lunzo made a show of tugging his rumpled clothing straight. The blue suit hung on his reedy frame and the fat tie-knot made his neck seem even skinnier. “You got amnesia or sumfink?” he asked, making circling motions at his temple with one finger. “I saw you the day afore yesterday. Had some news I thought you’d be interested to ‘ear.” Lunzo scowled. “Only I’d barely opened me mouth when you sodding well started choking me. Saw starts didn’t I. I thought I was goingta be gaspin’ me last. Nutjob.”
Lunzo had a strong survival instinct, which was totally at odds with his big mouth. Michael let the insult go without comment. “You nailed it the first time, Lunzo. I have amnesia. Remind me exactly where I was when you spotted me and decided to scam me for some cash.”
“Hey! It was good info-legit sources.”
“I bet. Where?”
“Selena’s salon.” Lunzo’s wrinkled face stretched in a smirk. “You was suckin’ down a bottle like it were your last.”
“That explains the amnesia,” Michael lied easily, then quirked a brow. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling me everything?”
“Well, there’s the small fact that mine weren’t the only neck you wrung,” said Lunzo, slyly. “Among other things.”
“Who’s, and what other things?” Michael didn’t like the amusement now lurking on Lunzo’s ugly face.
Lunzo’s smirk turned to a fully-fledged grin. “Only Selena’s herself. Popped her ‘ead off like a cork. Then, when others tried to intervene, you not only wrecked the place, you did for another two of our kind. Messy. There’s some saying you’ve gone bonkers early. That you’re a menace that needs sortin’ out, sharpish. If you get my meanin’?”
Wonderful. He was going to end up hunted by his own kind as well as the humans.
The rage that bubbled far too close to the surface these days wanted to go on the boil. It took some effort, but Michael kept a lid on it and stepped back. “Yeah. I get your meaning,” he answered flatly. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Don’t mention it, mate. Seriously, don’t,” Lunzo called after him as he walked away. “You’ve got all sorts of pots stirred up and it ain’t just because of Selena’s. Nobody’s happy that the frickin’ DCD are taking such a sudden interest in our business.”
Michael didn’t bother to answer. Rather than go through the main club again, he carried on down the corridor, heading for the little used emergency exit at the end. It opened onto an alley, and he used that as well as other alleys as a less exposed route to his bike. It infuriated him that he was already feeling hunted.
O~o~O
Their clothing was identical, and so was their hair. He’d made sure of everything. It took some effort, but he ignored the tremors of excitement thrumming through his body. This next move was so crucial that he wanted everything to go perfectly. The hunger was building in him already, but it would have to wait to be appeased.
Gabriel had despised his son from the moment of his birth. He hadn’t been present. He’d been forced to return to Rouen, there to remain until ordered otherwise and under threat of disinheritance. He hadn’t known that the girl he’d raped came from a good family, one who hadn’t rebelled against the king, and so was still in his good graces. The incident had become heated enough that Gabriel had been banished from the English court, as well as coerced into naming the stupid bitch’s whelp as his heir. The despising had turned to outright hatred when he finally got a look at the boy many years later. At twelve years of age there was no denying it, he was maturing into Gabriel’s image in every way. The likeness was so strong that it was eerie. Some muttered that it was the work of the devil. Gabriel had agreed to a point. No man should have to face a duplicate of himself, it was unnatural. A superstitious man might think that God had created the second to replace the first.
His son had returned his hatred equally. The mother had entered a convent immediately after his birth, leaving the babe to the tender care of her dishonoured father and outraged people. A bastard born of rape who was half English and half Norman was not welcome to either. The old Thegn had even named another as his successor to the manor he held. Gabriel found it ironic that his bastard son had chosen to use the name ‘Thane’ after death. He was intrigued at the choice of ‘Michael’, though. However, it seemed fitting in an obscure way. Now that the two of them were demons, they were both named after Angels.
Was it not said that before mankind was created there was a war in heaven amongst the angels, with the losers cast down into hell?
TBC - SEE LINK BELOW FOR NEXT CHAPTER
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. All comments, including concrit, much loved and appreciated.
Link to chapter four
Author: HelenT
Rating: PG13
Genre(s) : Paranormal Romance/angst/action
Summary: Whatever she’d been expecting of Hell it wasn’t what Liz Grant found. People and demons alike can be predator or victim. Caught between opposing sides in a fight for eternal life or eternal death, she has no option but to throw caution to the wind.
Disclaimer Characters and plot remain the property of the owner (me).:)
Link to Prologue and chapter one
Link to Chapter Two
CHAPTER THREE
The moment he'd spotted the woman, Michael had felt a punch of shock deep in his gut. Aaron’s cryptic statement about good deeds leapt to the forefront of his mind as he watched her walk with the older man across the dark, deserted car park. What the hell was she doing here? He’d had no trouble recognising her. Elizabeth Grant. The media had run the story of her arrival, and his actions, for weeks. The unwanted attention had been a major pain in the ass. Standing in the shadows, he’d cursed under his breath knowing that the last thing he’d needed right now was that kind of trouble. If he’d had any sense he would have picked one of the others to get the information he wanted. Apparently, he had no sense. He knew where she lived and his airbike was a great deal faster than any car. He reached her building several minutes before she did.
Gaining entry was ridiculously easy. He might have died when the world was still considered to be flat, but a millennia was more than enough time to pick up the skills needed to bypass an electronic security system. Her apartment was small, neat and utterly female with its attention to colour and comfort. The living room was filled with squashy cushioned seating, scattered with even more cushions. Her furniture was mostly polished wood and there was artwork on the walls. It even smelled like a female-soaps, lotions and all the other perfumed stuff they insisted on using. The scents made him wonder how soft and silky her skin would be. The errant thought just slipped into his mind, surprising him. He pushed it out by doing a quick scout of the rest of the apartment. It didn’t take long. The kitchen and bathroom were modern and utilitarian. The bedroom made a similar cosy statement as the living room.
Then she’d come in. She didn’t notice him because she by-passed the living room to head straight for her bedroom. She’d been too busy grumbling away to herself to notice anything amiss. From his vantage point, he could see that the mass of thick sable brown hair was already released from its tight constraints. He’d watched her shed her wet, enveloping smock, obviously heading for dry clothes. As there was no such thing as a subtle approach when invading someone’s home, he didn’t even try for one. He simply stepped into the hall behind her and grabbed her arm to swing her around, announcing himself with sarcasm.
Two seconds ticked loudly by.
Hazel eyes the size of saucers stared up at him. Like a switch had been flipped, fear leeched the colour out of her face. She seemed to shrink and she was already tiny with the top of her head barely reaching his breastbone. Terror, ripe and pungent, filled the air. When she sucked in a shuddering breath and opened her mouth, he knew what was coming. He clamped his other hand over her lips and jaw, locking the scream in her throat. His hand was big enough to cover the lower half of her face.
“Don’t scream,” he warned her. “I’m not here to hurt you. All I want is information and, once I’ve got it, I’m out of here.”
He wondered if his words got through the blind panic he could feel gripping her. He found out when she twisted away, whipping up a hand hard and fast, aiming for his ear. It could have been a disabling move on a human. Instead of simply blocking the blow, Michael went for the shock factor. Using the arm he still had a hold on, he spun her so that her back was to his front and lifted her. It took three strides to enter the living area and half a dozen more to reach the couch. He had her face down on the cushions with him sitting by her hip, using his upper body weight to pin her, before her stunned mind had even registered that her feet had left the floor. The moment her brain caught up with events, she started to thrash-or tried to. He waited until she gave up and went still before speaking again.
“That was a dumb move, Ms Grant,” Michael growled in her ear. “Haven’t you heard that vampires are fast?”
She moved her head to the side so that she could breathe, trapping strands of long hair and creating a screen for her face. She was panting, not just due to exertion and lack of air, but also because of sheer, black fear. This time when she looked at him her eyes were glassy with shock. For some reason her reaction annoyed the heck out of him. Had he given her any reason to fear him? He didn’t think so. He levered upright and stood, releasing her. “Don’t move and don’t scream,” he warned in a hard, menacing tone. This time she obeyed him.
Like a cornered animal, she watched his every move as if frozen in place on the coach. He could hear her heart thundering as he slowly backed away a few paces. “All I want is information,” he repeated, letting impatience creep into his tone. “If you don’t make any more stupid moves, I won’t even touch you.”
He could see her processing his words, weighing them for truth. “What kind of information?” she rasped.
“I want the victim details and locations of these murders the DCD are investigating.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her as closely as she was watching him.
Jerkily she sat up, a frown creasing her brows. “Why? So you can gloat over your kills. That’s unbelievably sick even for a vampire.”
“I didn’t kill them, so sick doesn’t come into it. I want to find the killer and I need some reference points to start looking. You can give them to me. If I could get the details elsewhere I wouldn’t be here.”
The frown stayed. “They have you on CCTV.” She said it almost accusingly.
He shook his head. “No. They only think that it was me.”
“Are you saying that the killer is wearing some kind of disguise that makes him look like you?”
“I didn’t say that. I don’t know why the son of a bitch is doing what he’s doing-I’ll ask when I find him.”
Silence fell. She tilted her head, looking at him intently with those gold and green eyes. For the first time, Michael was struck with how pretty she was-a fact not obvious before because she’d either been covered in gloop or utterly petrified. Fine-boned features gave her a fey and yet earthy appearance; which, added to a thick, brown mane of hair tumbling around her shoulders made for a fetching sight. She looked younger than twenty-eight years of age. Unluckily for Ms Grant it didn’t change a damn thing. Centuries of sordid indulgence had jaded him to the point of indifference. To him, sex was just another meaningless, basic bodily need and he took care of it with whatever willing female was handy. A pretty face no longer moved him.
She was taking too long to respond. He took a step towards her, halving the distance, and hunkered down. They were on a level now. “Don’t think I’m making a polite request here, Ms Grant. Refusing to answer or lying to me would also count as a stupid move. I might not have come here to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” It was the cold, flat truth and he could see from the way her eyes flared that she realised it. To allay any more doubts, he added silkily, “All it would take is one bite and then everything you’ve ever heard about hell will come true.”
~o~
Liz’s mouth went dry at the palpable menace emanating from him. His face was hard, dark eyes cold. Facts that she’d learned as part of her job ran swiftly through her mind. A vampire bite wasn’t limited to just taking blood. Through tiny channels in their fangs, a vampire could deliver a range of different venoms, including one to induce horrific visions, agonising pain and eventually death.
There was one thing wrong with that scenario though. Liz firmed her jaw and refused to let her spine turn to jelly. “Only fully changed vampires can produce the venoms. You aren’t fully changed.”
“Wrong. Wanna put it to the test?”
She wondered which part he was refuting; that only fully changed vampires could poison humans, or that he wasn’t full changed himself? His eyes still looked human so she was betting on the first.
She was certain that he hadn’t lied about not being the killer, or contrarily, his willingness to hurt her to get the information he wanted. He hadn’t been bluffing and irrationally it hurt. Thane might not be a chowing down on humans yet, but he was still a harsh and dangerous individual, moreover, one with a capacity for brutality that she would be a fool to underestimate. He was also intelligent, making him even more dangerous.
Did she really have a choice?
“I can’t tell you much until I review the data file I’ve been given. I was only brought into the investigation tonight,” she warned him.
“Where is the data file?”
Sitting up on the coach, Liz dug into her trouser pocket and pulled out the tiny device. “Right here.”
She felt him relax even though his expression remained emotionless. “Where’s your PC?” he asked her. Liz pointed to the decoratively carved wooden writing desk behind him. It had a slide-down lockable front that concealed the technology from view. She liked her home to look like a home and not an office. The apartment might be small but it was her nest. She’d indulged herself when decorating the living room and bedroom, using an abundance of rich colours and soft, silky textures.
Half an hour later, Liz was still sitting motionless in a chair in full view of her ‘captor’ while he scrolled through the detailed files now up on her screen. She’d considered and then discarded the idea of trying to make a dash for the door. What was the point? She wasn’t an idiot. He’d catch her before she’d gone four steps. Maybe she was being foolishly trusting, but she believed that once he was finished he’d leave just as he’d said he would. Unfortunately, that belief didn’t improve her frame of mind much. With nothing else to do, Liz had used the time to study him.
He really was as big and intimidating as she remembered. Most men of exceptional height were also thin; Thane was powerfully built without looking hulking or brutish. His dark hair was cut short and to the shape of his head, which, added to his modern style of clothing; jeans, t-shirt and the obligatory black leather jacket and boots, meant he could pass as a twentieth-century man. The only odd note was the ring. His hands were as large as the rest of him, offset by long fingers that made them look graceful in a purely masculine way. The ring on his right forefinger was silver, wide and engraved with symbols she couldn’t make out.
Pride, horribly late in rearing its head, made Liz ensure that her study of him remained a purely clinical recording of details. Unfortunately, she couldn’t ignore how strong had been her initial relief at finding out that he wasn’t the killer. In less than an hour, she’d gone from utter terror to dizzying relief to an odd sense of limbo. It had taken some serious effort, but she’d been able to read Thane. Yet, apart from the certainty that he hadn’t been lying, there was little else reassuring. If the man felt much about anything then those emotions were buried too deep for her to sense-hence the limbo. Her mood darkened with that thought. Why, oh why had she let herself dwell on this cold, uncaring man for so long? It was galling to admit that she’d wanted him to be something out of the ordinary as far as vampires go-she’d had this secret, pathetic little fantasy that there was something decent and worthwhile left in him, and rejected all of the evidence against it.
Like she was any judge. God. What an idiot! Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as she’d hoped she had.
Her past was littered with atrocious personal judgement and semi-abusive, destructive relationships on every level. She’d searched desperately for love in all of the wrongs places and in all of the wrongs ways, and ended up condemning herself. Was she really going to let herself continue that pathetic, self-abasing pattern in hell too? The limbo lifted enough for her to feel the humiliation it disguised.
Not a chance, she resolved.
Maybe she should be grateful, she told herself, humourlessly. Liz hugged her chilled body with tense arms. If nothing else this second meeting had shown her what Thane truly was-cold to the bone. That fantasy bubble she’d been living inside was well and truly burst. At least in Gehenna she was lucky enough to learn he wasn’t worth her time before she did something stupid, like really care. Her shaky sense of self-esteem was safe. Thanks be to God.
She was so mired in her grim thoughts that she didn’t notice that he’d transferred the data to storage device of his own. At least, not until he stood up and tucked it inside his inside jacket pocket. They locked eyes. “I’m done,” he said simply.
Despite herself, Liz tensed, braced for the proof that she'd been wrong to trust him. Obviously sensing her reaction, Thane's lips curved wryly and he tipped her a mocking salute. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see myself out.”
Liz remained silent and stayed in the chair as he did exactly that. Once the door had shut behind him, she slumped and held a trembling hand to her abruptly reawakened headache.
O~o~O
Michael scouted out all of the killing sites listed in the DCD files. He wasn’t expecting to find any trackable signs of Tracey and so wasn’t disappointed that there were none. He was looking for patterns, similarities between the victims and locations that would give him insights into who or where might be targeted next time. Either that, or an idea of where the asshole was staying. He concentrated most of his time on the first two sites. Uruk was a decidely rough and dangerous quadrant deep into the Old Quarter, and the slightly more civilised Gilgamesh bordered the newer, classical ancient regions. He himself lived only a short, one hundred and fifty kilometre hop from Gilgamesh-no distance at all on an airbike.
The murder scenes in both were little more than squalid flops. The worst was in Uruk. Bare stone made up the walls with a stinking hole in one corner for a toilet. The tiny chamber reeked of raw sewage. The only furniture was a single, stained mattress and a rickety table bundled with rags. It was one of a hundred or so in the same dark, dank, rabbit-warren of a building. The empty-eyed inhabitants hadn’t even glanced at him as he wandered around. They didn’t give a rats ass that a woman had suffered and died here.
A part of Michael wondered why he cared. The only answer he could come up with was that he hated knowing that the last face these women saw before dying was identical to his own. He hadn’t turned into a killer yet, damn it! Yet many were seeing him as such. Elizabeth Grant had believed it, until he’d let her sense enough of his emotions that she found out otherwise. He’d known she was an empath. In fact, he knew a lot more about her than he should do. Michael had kept a distant track of her for reasons he’d given up trying to fathom. But, he wasn’t into quid-pro-qou. Once he’d convinced her that he wasn’t the killer, he’d locked his emotions down again. If she’d sensed how unstable he was lately, she might not have agreed to hand over the information-and he…disliked the idea of hurting her.
Gilgamesh had been a little more illuminating. People and vampires that he knew and had business dealings with him, suddenly found the need to avert their faces and avoid him. Just for the hell of it, and because it was pertinent, he decided to corner a few to question them on this new, unsociable attitude.
His first choice was a little rat of a vampire called Lunzo.
Michael followed him into the dancing club, Chaldean Queen. There was a bar on the left and the rest of the floor space was taken up by patrons avidly watching the antics taking place on the four raised and spot-lit stages. The stages came complete with poles and naked women gyrating to the frantic rhythm created by lutes, reed pipes and drums. Lunzo, aware of who was trailing him, tried to lose Michael in those same crowds. Cutting him off and catching him up on the far side, Michael grabbed Lunzo by the scruff of the neck, lifting him several inches of the floor and slammed them both through the emergency exit. The corridor beyond was already in use, but it took only one frigid glance from Michael to convince the half-dressed couple they’d be safer back in the club. Kicking his legs and swearing foully, Lunzo reminded Michael of a worm wriggling on the end of a hook.
Irritated, Michael raised him higher and shook him. “Shut your mouth, Lunzo, before you really piss me off.”
Watery, red-rimmed eyes glared at him. “Well, excuse me. I’ll just hang here then. I ain’t done nuffink. Mindin’ me own wasn’t I? What you want?”
“I want to know why you took off in the opposite direction the moment you saw me?”
“What avoid a sociable, friendly bloke like yourself?” retorted Lunzo, sarcastically, “What’s a man wanta do that for, eh?”
Considering Michael still had him hanging from the collar of his jacket, he had to concede the point. He dropped the other vampire. “As far as I can remember, you haven’t done anything recently to need to duck out of sight when I turn up. Call me Mr Sensitive, but I’d like an explanation.”
Petulantly, Lunzo made a show of tugging his rumpled clothing straight. The blue suit hung on his reedy frame and the fat tie-knot made his neck seem even skinnier. “You got amnesia or sumfink?” he asked, making circling motions at his temple with one finger. “I saw you the day afore yesterday. Had some news I thought you’d be interested to ‘ear.” Lunzo scowled. “Only I’d barely opened me mouth when you sodding well started choking me. Saw starts didn’t I. I thought I was goingta be gaspin’ me last. Nutjob.”
Lunzo had a strong survival instinct, which was totally at odds with his big mouth. Michael let the insult go without comment. “You nailed it the first time, Lunzo. I have amnesia. Remind me exactly where I was when you spotted me and decided to scam me for some cash.”
“Hey! It was good info-legit sources.”
“I bet. Where?”
“Selena’s salon.” Lunzo’s wrinkled face stretched in a smirk. “You was suckin’ down a bottle like it were your last.”
“That explains the amnesia,” Michael lied easily, then quirked a brow. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling me everything?”
“Well, there’s the small fact that mine weren’t the only neck you wrung,” said Lunzo, slyly. “Among other things.”
“Who’s, and what other things?” Michael didn’t like the amusement now lurking on Lunzo’s ugly face.
Lunzo’s smirk turned to a fully-fledged grin. “Only Selena’s herself. Popped her ‘ead off like a cork. Then, when others tried to intervene, you not only wrecked the place, you did for another two of our kind. Messy. There’s some saying you’ve gone bonkers early. That you’re a menace that needs sortin’ out, sharpish. If you get my meanin’?”
Wonderful. He was going to end up hunted by his own kind as well as the humans.
The rage that bubbled far too close to the surface these days wanted to go on the boil. It took some effort, but Michael kept a lid on it and stepped back. “Yeah. I get your meaning,” he answered flatly. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Don’t mention it, mate. Seriously, don’t,” Lunzo called after him as he walked away. “You’ve got all sorts of pots stirred up and it ain’t just because of Selena’s. Nobody’s happy that the frickin’ DCD are taking such a sudden interest in our business.”
Michael didn’t bother to answer. Rather than go through the main club again, he carried on down the corridor, heading for the little used emergency exit at the end. It opened onto an alley, and he used that as well as other alleys as a less exposed route to his bike. It infuriated him that he was already feeling hunted.
O~o~O
Their clothing was identical, and so was their hair. He’d made sure of everything. It took some effort, but he ignored the tremors of excitement thrumming through his body. This next move was so crucial that he wanted everything to go perfectly. The hunger was building in him already, but it would have to wait to be appeased.
Gabriel had despised his son from the moment of his birth. He hadn’t been present. He’d been forced to return to Rouen, there to remain until ordered otherwise and under threat of disinheritance. He hadn’t known that the girl he’d raped came from a good family, one who hadn’t rebelled against the king, and so was still in his good graces. The incident had become heated enough that Gabriel had been banished from the English court, as well as coerced into naming the stupid bitch’s whelp as his heir. The despising had turned to outright hatred when he finally got a look at the boy many years later. At twelve years of age there was no denying it, he was maturing into Gabriel’s image in every way. The likeness was so strong that it was eerie. Some muttered that it was the work of the devil. Gabriel had agreed to a point. No man should have to face a duplicate of himself, it was unnatural. A superstitious man might think that God had created the second to replace the first.
His son had returned his hatred equally. The mother had entered a convent immediately after his birth, leaving the babe to the tender care of her dishonoured father and outraged people. A bastard born of rape who was half English and half Norman was not welcome to either. The old Thegn had even named another as his successor to the manor he held. Gabriel found it ironic that his bastard son had chosen to use the name ‘Thane’ after death. He was intrigued at the choice of ‘Michael’, though. However, it seemed fitting in an obscure way. Now that the two of them were demons, they were both named after Angels.
Was it not said that before mankind was created there was a war in heaven amongst the angels, with the losers cast down into hell?
TBC - SEE LINK BELOW FOR NEXT CHAPTER
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. All comments, including concrit, much loved and appreciated.
Link to chapter four