Luxuria part seven
Disclaimers in part one
Emboldened by being so admired in her on-line fandom, Tina had dared to make changes to her day-to-day persona. She sat closer to the front in class, particularly English class. She spoke to people even if they didn't say anything first, and if they gave her a haughty look like who the hell was she to be speaking, she could smile and take it. Sometimes they treated her okay after that. She was more cautious about changing her appearance. Her clothes, her piercings, her hair-they were her armor. People knew what she wasn't and didn't have expectations of her. If she changed any of that, they'd see and make fun. She was selling out, trying to fit in, be accepted. Well, was that really so bad?
She started with work; school was too scary. She wore a stylish layered top with a scoop neck and low cut jeans like all the fashionable girls were wearing. She couldn't complete the look with long sweeping hair and plucked eyebrows, but it was an experiment.
No one at the video store seemed to think she looked like she was trying to pass for acceptable, so she relaxed some. She hoped to see one of the mystery discs that evening, but she didn’t until she was getting ready to go home. As an employee she got free rentals, so she rented Sense and Sensibility even though it was English and old because someone told her Snape played a lover in it. She opened up the case and there it was. Drippy red font and all. And it was for her.
She should have been pleased. All she had to do was take it home and she'd get even more praise for her fanfiction stories. Or maybe she had to watch it first, she wasn't sure. What . . . what would happen if she watched it? What were these discs, anyway? She hadn't forgotten that Jen's mom got killed the same night she and Tiegan took one of them home. She hadn't really wanted to think about it, but Tim had learned that one of their other customers had shot his ex-wife. Tina had checked, because she knew she had sent one of those discs home with the guy. Sure enough, he'd done it the same night he'd rented the disc. She didn’t know about any of the other discs she'd allowed out the door, but she did know that none of them had come back. Most were overdue. It didn't mean anything, right? She could just go and get another copy of Sense and Sensibility, but she was positive that would mean she'd get flamed horribly online and not be able to sleep for days for how upset she'd be. Uneasy, she handed the disc to Antonio to rent out to herself, put it in her backpack, and left for home.
###
Vicki was drowning in sensation. She had, in fact, never felt pleasure like this. She'd never been so passive in bed, either, but after her own motion in Henry's grasp proved so volatile that her conscious thought was wiped out with each stroke, it had been easier to let him take over. She'd managed to swat his hand away when he tried to remove her glasses, but there was little else she could rally for. She wanted to be sure he was all right, that he was enjoying this too, but the best she could manage was an occasional peek at his face, which reassured her even while some part of her brain found his reactions extraordinary. Most men in her experience, by this point, would be as overheated and sweat covered as she, face contorted with a combination of pleasure and effort, flushed and radiating heat. Henry's skin remained cool and unaffected, even as they thrust energetically together, and his face showed no particular physical tension. Only his hair, tousled and uncontrolled, showed any abandon. It was his expression that reassured her, between suns exploding along her nervous system, of his joy. He watched her hungrily, happily, subtly reacting when she did, perfectly in synch, as if his pleasure derived only from hers. As if he could not be satisfied until she was. His gaze flicked from her face to her neck and back to her face and again to her neck.
It was his voice, when he spoke, that told of his mounting desire, his own hunger for completion. Not only in the words, but in the stress and hoarseness in his tone. "Vicki, I would love to make love to you all night," he said, the inflections an apology as he adroitly quickened his pace and aimed directly at this pleasure center he alone seemed to know about. Vicki had been tossed madly around this engulfing whirlpool and now he urged her directly into its heart. "But . . . I . . . can't . . ." Mournful but desperate. She understood and matched his rhythm, ready to finish. She wanted to answer-tell him yes, she felt his need, she longed to fill it and give him what he desired, but speech was beyond her.
Henry's phone rang. An outside, intruding sound, Vicki did actually hear it. Henry heard it too, no doubt, but thank God, he changed nothing. Vicki changed nothing. Together they pounded toward the finish, Vicki's exploding suns merging into what would soon be one supernova. Henry slowly bent his head to her neck, hovering just above it, so she felt his breath there, ready, staying unnaturally focused considering the athletic activity of the rest of him. At that angle Vicki lost some of the intensity of sensation, but it didn't matter in the least. She was warmth itself, spreading outward, even her wrists burned with it . . .
Her wrists?!!
She managed a look, and yes, her wrists were glowing. No dream. Real life.
"Henry, stop!" she screamed, pushing away from him. Oooh, this was going to be hard. He was stronger than she and wouldn't be pushed. His position, action and intention remained rock strong.
"Vicki," he growled, his voice still at her ear.
She shoved a glowing wrist in his face. "Do you want to die?" she cried.
"Wha . . .?" he said, pulling back his head enough that she could see his fangs, poised to strike, his eyes gone dark. "I . . ." His voice ended in a kind of grunt. Panicked, Vicki tried to squirm free of him, but was unable. She was under his control in a way she had never been earlier. Fear for him merged with a sudden fear of him, and, as if in response, he tipped his head back and gave a pained moan. If he was going to escape this thing, it clearly had to be by his own will not hers; all she could do was try to kill her own arousal and talk fast. And God, she'd been so close.
"It's what happened with the incubus," she panted. "I told you how my wrists burned. You saw the burns. You've got to stop or it will kill you. Henry!"
With a howl of frustration, Henry released her, and with that uncanny grace of his, disengaged from her and the bedclothes to leap off the bed. He put his hands on the wall, over his head, leaning forward, like he was gripping bars. "Vicki, get out," he said. "Out of the room. Now."
Vicki had scrambled off the bed, scooped up her clothes and stumbled out the bedroom door before she even noticed how automatically she'd obeyed him. She stood in the living room, naked, trembling as she tried to get her clothes on, rain tapping against his large windows. Normally she hated being told what to do and would reflexively question orders. Perhaps Henry's persuasive powers worked on her after all, or maybe it was just so obviously the smart thing to do. Also, it had been a plea, not just an order. It occurred to her to wonder if he was all right.
"Henry?" she called, her voice quavering. He didn't reply. She finished dressing and studied her wrists. The glow was gone. The marks stung, but she wasn't burned, not this time. We stopped in time. "Henry, are you all right?"
He appeared at his bedroom door, immaculate clothing back in place, hair tamed, expression unreadable. Vicki kept her distance. If she'd thought she could do it without being rude, she'd have moved even farther away. "I have to go," he said, tightly. He took a long, dramatic black trenchcoat from a closet. As he did, Vicki said, "It's all the more important now that I talk to you about this." She indicated her police files on his table.
"Later," he said, and was at the door.
"You'll come back?" she asked, uncertain. Was she imagining it or did he look paler than usual?
"Yes," he said as he opened his door. He forced a slight smile. "It's my house."
###
After some friends had come for Coreen, Mike returned to the kid. MacReady's guys would be by very shortly to take him away. Mike had learned a bit about his future.
"They're taking you to The Don," Mike told him. The Don was a notoriously overcrowded facility for remanded prisoners. Intended as short-term holding it had no amenities, not even phones or meeting rooms for lawyers. "I don't know that I'll be able to talk to you again."
The boy nodded. He smiled gently at Mike. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Nothing here can harm me, only pain me."
Well, Mike hadn't exactly been worried about him. He was a murderer, whatever else he was. "What are you?" Mike asked.
"Only a messenger. After my message is delivered, I am nothing," he said. "You must deliver my message. Thank you for the food. That was kind."
Mike shook his head. "I want to talk to you some more."
He seemed to think about that. "I'm sorry," he said. "You have no idea how painful it is for me to be here."
And before Mike could ask him about that, Corrections Officers came in and took Renee Chien's murderer away.
Tired and puzzled, Mike went to his desk to call Vicki again. As he got there, his phone rang. "Celluci."
"Mike, it's Vicki."
"Vicki! Where the hell have you been? Coreen and I have been trying to reach you all afternoon."
"No time for that right now," she said. "I need your help. Can you meet me tonight at the old Lunatic Asylum annex? Not the CAMH, the old annex, down on the waterfront."
"What's going on?"
"I can't explain right now. I need you. Please."
Mike was alarmed. This did not sound like the Vicki he knew. "Should I bring back up?"
"No! Don't tell anyone. But bring your gun. Will you come?"
Bring his gun? Of course he'd bring his gun. "All right, I'm off duty now anyway, but Vicki, tell me more, damn it. What am I getting into?"
"I can't talk. See you soon. Love you."
Mike hung up, stunned. Love you? Oh, this was serious, whatever it was. Mike would have thought she was being held hostage, and was trying to give him a clue, but when they'd been partners they'd had code words for that and she hadn't used them. He checked his gun, clocked out, and left the building.
###
Henry hadn't felt quite this much like an evil creature of the night in some time. He sped out of his building without a word to the deskman and hit the streets of his city with mayhem in his heart. Grief was there, too, grief that he'd lost what he'd thought he'd found with Vicki, but hunger and anger overrode it. He did not go to the entertainment district, where the hormone ridden and intoxicated would welcome him at any of a dozen nightclubs. There was one human connection more powerful than lust and even love, and tonight he had to have it. Terror.
He turned his collar up against the cold rain. He felt the cold, but it was not the discomfort it was to other people. Unfortunately the weather could deter even the criminal element, and he needed someone to attack him. He was not so desperate that he was willing to seize on an innocent, but he had no compunctions about entrapment. He headed down Dundas, forcing himself to slow to a normal, even leisurely pace, huddling in his coat like an unhappy abandoned soul. His hunger increased his sensitivity to the heartbeats around him, calling to him like sirens, but he sensed no drug dealers or their clients even when he reached Jarvis. He changed direction. The weather might keep the petty criminals inside, but he could count on the hard core finding him in his favorite park.
As he approached he extended his heightened senses to find any lurkers in the park. Two places-one group clustered together near the street with slow heartbeats, probably homeless, and a pair of strong fast heartbeats near the park's center. Perfect. For the gifts we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. He glided toward them, on the park's main walk, allowing a gold chain to show outside his coat. The heartbeats sped up and he heard the excited whispers. He paused near their hiding place, readjusting his coat and collar, turning his back to them. Come on, come on.
He felt them screw up their courage, heard the whispered order, and knew exactly where they were as they attacked. He let each of them attempt a strike, the first to his head with a vicious looking piece of twisted iron, the second a body tackle. He dodged both with ease, delivered his own blows and in seconds had both men by the throat. His hunger, already striding with him in tandem, slipped free of its final leash. "Big mistake," he said. Even in the rain-drenched dark they could see his face, and their panic soared. Finally!
Their pulses beneath his hands were . . . were his to drink. No more restraint. He threw one man aside, turned his head and ordered, "Stay." Then he pulled the other's throat to him and sank into the man's life with no finesse. He drank deep, ignoring the unsavory taste of the man's spirit as he reveled in his fear. As tempting as it always was to take the glowing life beneath his hands, he knew better, and had no need. This man was only an appetizer. He broke off before the man lost consciousness. "You will remember nothing of tonight. Only fear and pain. You want to change your life. You will find a way to live without preying on the weak. You will always remember there are greater predators than you waiting in the dark." When the man dazedly agreed, Henry released him and turned to his partner in crime.
This man was his real meal. Forced by Henry's compulsion to stay and watch the assault on his partner, he knew what was coming. His fear swelled through panic into paralyzing terror as Henry approached him, hunger showing. Then the paralysis broke as terror gave him the strength to overcome Henry's suggestion. He got to his feet and ran. Henry smiled and gave chase. He didn't let him get far; he'd been taught it was unmannerly to play with your food. Henry took him down like a bird of prey on a mouse. The man screamed and Henry waited, letting him see, squeezing any more possible terror out of him. "No, no, please!" the man cried. "Don't kill me, don't kill me, please!" Henry smelled the urine the man released and decided he'd better have him before he gave himself a heart attack.
As he drank in the most delicious elixir a vampire could taste, Henry's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Vicki, he thought. Only Vicki could be so annoying.
Continue to part eight