Bloodlust (Frailty Book 2) Page 13

  The passion and pride in his voice was obvious, but Constance had also picked up on something else. There was an underlying edge – a rage. She wondered briefly what it was that might have spawned it. The curiosity was abandoned just as quickly, though. Whether what she had done to change his attention had worked or she had just overcome his influence, her head had cleared. More importantly, now that she knew what that experience was like, she knew how to better prepare herself against it in the future.

  It had made her stronger. Big mistake. In spite of the small victory, though, the overall situation had not changed. He was still exhibiting some form of control over her and her physical actions, and she needed to do something about that. Constance decided to pry for more information. Perhaps his answers would provide the knowledge she needed to better understand what she was capable of and how she could use that to totally break his hold. All she had to do was try to keep her frustration restrained.

  Control. She needed to get back her control.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Given how pungent this house is with death, I could simply have followed the smell,” Ambrose replied.

  “I had to feed,” Constance shot back sarcastically as what little patience she had instantly wore through. “I want to know how you knew I was here.”

  “Indeed.” Ambrose removed his hat, glancing around the disheveled room. “To answer your question: it is very common for the newly reborn to return to a place of familiarity and comfort; to covet what you know; to build a nest, as you have done here.” Turning his attention back to the young woman, his continued dialog took a more demeaning tone. “Unfortunately, it is also not uncommon for new acquisitions to make a mess.”

  Aggravation continued bubbling up again from where it lay simmering under the surface of her imposed acceptance of the situation. “I did the best I could. It’s not like anyone was around to show me what to do or anything!” she said defiantly.

  “Point that blame at yourself and accept some responsibility for your own actions, Child.” Ambrose took a commanding step forward and pointed a finger towards Constance’s face. “You were sloppy. Continue to do so and it will cost you. People will become aware of your existence and they will come for you – hunt you down. I cannot have that.”

  Constance rose up from the bed, planting herself solidly in front of her visitor. “No one will touch me! I can handle myself!”

  Ambrose relaxed his stance somewhat and chuckled. “You are strong. I sensed it before, and your survival of the transformation after losing so much of your life-force is a testament to that. Still, as I have already demonstrated, you have much to learn and that is precisely why I am here.”

  Walking past her, he moved to the window and stood looking out, a slight breeze ruffling his shoulder length hair.

  “Take your parents, for example. What…” Ambrose began again but was cut off by another of the teen’s flare-ups.

  “You better not have hurt them,” she said sternly.

  “My dear, this will go much more smoothly if you will allow me to finish a thought without interrupting me at every turn. Besides, what would I have had to gain from those specimens in the shape they are in? Which is precisely why I was going to ask you what it was that you were doing with them?”

  Constance crossed her arms and was tempted to not interact with her visitor any more. That isn’t going to get me what I want, though. Once again, changing tactics seemed the most direct way to recover the edge she had been enjoying up until Ambrose’s return, so Constance cleared her throat, centered herself, and went to work playing the role of the obedient pup. It seemed she had no choice but to tolerate what was happening, at least until the opportunity arose to change the situation.

  “I needed to control them,” she replied in a calmer voice.

  “Enslave them,” he said in agreement, “make them bow to your every whim.”

  “Yes,” Constance replied. “And I couldn’t have them blabbing to all of the nosey, big-mouthed neighbors.

  “You are on the right path, but there are better, far simpler and effective, ways to accomplish this,” Ambrose informed her, his voice showing no fluctuation as he spoke.

  “How is that?” she asked, matching his verbal lack of inflection.

  “I will show you,” Ambrose answered, slipping one leg out of the window and sitting on the sill. “I will help you; we will help each other. There is a task that I intend to see through to the end, and your inclusion in it is necessary for success. Follow me, Child.”

  With that, the older man nimbly slid out onto the branch before effortlessly dropping to the ground.

  Once again, Constance summoned her inner strength and composed herself. She would play her role, allowing him to continue believing he had command over both her body and mind, and he would give her all the answers she wanted; enlighten her on the things she would be able to do with the new found changes to her body. She would help him with whatever pathetic chore it was that he needed done, and he would trust her.

  That gained respect would allow her to stay in his good graces; to stay close to him. Sooner or later, she would find a way to bypass whatever control he had over her, and when she did…well. Constance poked the tip of her tongue onto one of the sharp, pointed upper teeth, drinking in the blood that it brought forth.

  Exiting out the window, she immediately picked up his trail and disappeared into the night in pursuit.

  19

  Landing with a thud on the ground, Roofy grunted and lay in a heap. Scaling the fence on the back side of Rosedale Acres Cemetery had been easy enough. The top portion had long since pulled away from the nearest support post; a sure sign, Roofy thought, that there had been plenty of people before him that had entered the same way. The frequent traversing by visitors had left the area of the chain linked structure bent over and partially crushed. Even for someone that was not as large as he was, climbing over it would have been simple.

  Noticing the loose and mangled wiring wrapped around it in the dark – not so much, Roofy figured amusingly as he untangled his foot. Standing up and dusting himself off, he glanced around, the half-full moon providing the only real light. Aside from the small clumping of trees and shrubbery that he was in, it was enough to navigate the open landscaping. Finding the grave he was looking for was another matter entirely.

  The big Russian stumbled forward slowly, trying to ignore the thumping pain in his shin that he was attempting to walk off while commencing his search. “Where do I begin?” he asked out loud to himself.

  “Begin, indeed,” the voice of Apocalypse hissed inside Roofy’s head. “You are absolutely brilliant, you know that? How do you propose to find her site in the dark among all of the many, many, many graves?”

  “I am in no hurry. Are you, Demon?” Roofy asked.

  “No, I suppose I’m not. Forced to be dragged along inside a dumb ox like you – guess I might as well try to enjoy the ride.” Apocalypse’s statement dripped with sarcasm, something Roofy had found to be common with his internal roommate’s remarks. More like body-mate.

  Methodically, he made his way from one headstone to the next, reading the names, sounding out the English pronunciations to some of the more difficult ones, and trying to imagine what the people looked like or how they spent their final moments. His memories drifted back to his mother and her simple burial plot. Missing the funeral still haunted Roofy. Unfortunately, the recollection was ruined by the sudden image of her naked in the kitchen. The dream had been Apocalypse’s doing, but it was real enough to feel palpable and force him to shift his concentration back to the never ending rows of dead.

  “What is it you are expecting to find here?” the demon asked.

  “You know the answer to that,” Roofy answered.

  “That is not what I meant, Franken-dork. What do you hope to achieve, even if you find her plot?” Apocalypse asked.

  “Why do you care?” Roofy countered, only half paying attention to w
hat the demon had to say.

  “I don’t, actually. I would just hate to miss the opportunity to remind you of how much of an idiot you are,” Apocalypse retorted sharply. “Besides, none of this means anything. It’s a waste of time.”

  “It will mean something to me,” Roofy said softly.

  “Yes,” Apocalypse sneered, “it means you weren’t there for her just like you weren’t there for your porky-pie mother when she died.”

  “I am not interested in anything you have to say,” Roofy responded in a threatening tone. The demon’s words had bit hard. Adding insult to injury, there was no physical way to retaliate, which did not stop him from imagining at least a dozen scenarios of the act.

  “Speaking of death and something you should be interested in, look who we have here,” Apocalypse stated with a note on sincerity to his words.

  Roofy had not really been paying attention after the last remark, but the demon was right; he knew the person buried in the spot he was stopped at. Her name was Kate Reiner.

  It struck him as somewhat odd that he had given her very little, if any thought since finding out she had been murdered, as if they had been just lightly acquainted. As much as he thought he should miss her, he did not. There was no remorse and no guilt. He still felt very much, as he had commented at the time of her death, that life held nothing for her. She had been miserable and impressed that onto others. The way she had passed left a bad taste in Roofy’s mouth, though – at Ambrose’s hands. There are very few people that deserve to have their life ended in such a way.

  Roofy was certainly unaware of where she had been laid to rest and would not have known of Constance being in the same cemetery had it not been for the name being mentioned in one of the media updates. Wondering how many people would have actually attended Kate’s funeral was the last effort he spent on the subject before returning to his search.

  “If you’d like to speak to your departed wife, I could probably contact some of my colleagues. Shall we call upon them? From what I recall of that woman, I’m sure she ended up there,” the demon said, laughing.

  Disregarding the beast and looking around the graveyard, he rubbed his face, noting the copious amounts of beard stubble. The prickly sensation was due to five days worth of growth, as he had not shaved since his last day spent with Father Philippe, and it made him long for a razor and some hot water. It was customary for men to keep beards for long periods of time due to the cold back in his home town in Russia. He had never really cared for them, though, and the milder climate in Virginia leant to his preference of being clean shaven.

  It was not the only grooming item that had gone by the wayside, as it had been even longer since he had a haircut. His normally high-and-tight blond hair had grown out over the last two months and bothered him every time he saw his reflection. The upside was that it would keep the chill off and possibly disguise his appearance.

  Despite the warmer-than-normal temperatures for the Autumn season in the area, he had put his wrestling attire back on under his clothing when he returned from Nevada. Going from the constant dry heat there to the east coast had amplified the feeling of coolness in the air.

  In the distance, he caught the faint sight of something that he recalled seeing in the background of one of the shots taken during the news coverage: an earth mover.

  Closing in on the area, the police barrier tape confirmed the location. A large mound of dirt lay in front of the excavator, bordering an open grave. Stepping over the boundary and moving to the side of the hole revealed the casket had been removed, with all that remained being a headstone that was disturbed and sat off-center.

  There had been something unique about Constance, and Roofy had felt a pull to her and was compelled to follow her on her adventure. Sure, his life had been in a steady decline, leaving him depressed most of the time, but he could not say if he would have ever walked away if not for her lure.

  Of course, there was never any intention for things to end the way they did. In his mind, due to the misconception that he had a cancerous tumor in his head, Roofy knew he was short on time, figuring he would be dead or caught before the trip lasted too long. The girl would return to her life, and that would have been that. He had every intention of protecting her along the way.

  But I failed at that. Despite all of his strength, she had been taken from him, tortured, abused, and murdered.

  Looking around, he stepped back out of the marked area, grabbed a rose from one of the other sites, and returned to Constance’s empty resting place.

  “I am sorry, my friend,” Roofy said softly and tossed the flower into the grave.

  “Your guilt is misplaced,” Apocalypse chided. “The girl is not dead, so you have nothing to be sorry for, other than getting in my way.”

  “Why do you say this? Of course she is dead. I watched her die,” Roofy replied, irritated.

  “No, what you saw was her beginning to change,” the demon shot back sharply. “She was bitten. She’s one of them now.”

  “You do not make sense,” Roofy fired back.

  “You can’t be this dense!” Apocalypse retorted. “You met Ambrose and saw what he was capable of – what he was. She’s like him now. She’s one of them.”

  “What is this ‘them’, Demon?” Roofy asked, his words charged with frustration and growing anger.

  “A blood-dealer. A night-stalker. A hunter of men. A beast, like the two police officers at the church,” Apocalypse spat back. “She’s out there feeding while we’re here arguing.”

  “This cannot be. How would you know this?” Roofy asked insistently.

  “Oh,” Apocalypse responded, “I know my blood suckers all too well. Let’s say we’ve had some history. Point is, she is one of them now, which means one thing: she must be stopped. You need to hunt her down, and you need to kill her.”

  “Niet!” Roofy exclaimed. “You speak in lies!”

  “I’m a demon, so I excel at lying, my dumb cohabitant,” Apocalypse said degradingly. “Even I have my enemies, though. What she has become is dangerous to both of us.”

  “Then I will find her and help her,” Roofy countered. “I will not fail her again.”

  Apocalypse laughed. “There is no helping her now. There is no cure,” he snorted. “You want to help her – put her out of her misery.”

  “I will not let this happen,” Roofy said defiantly. He ripped through the law enforcement tape and began making his way back to the fence hurriedly, rage filling him. “No more people will die because of me. I am going to save her.”

  Apocalypse grunted. “You are a fool.”

  20

  “Crazy talk. That’s what it is. Crazy talk. What could you possibly hope to accomplish by even going there?” Dwayne asked, stopping his pacing to put his hands up and shrug his shoulders.

  Laura shifted uncomfortably in one of the small, hard chairs that sat outside of the chief’s office. She concluded that the use of something that cramped and made of such unforgiving materials must have been intentional, either to discourage people from waiting or to unnerve them even more than they probably already were. Had their visit not been mandatory, she certainly could have thought of many other places she would rather have been.

  Finally, Laura answered Dwayne, who had planted himself in front of her and showed no signs of budging until he got a response. “All of the evidence points to it. It makes sense.”

  As if Laura’s words released him from the hold the spot had on him, the forensics officer began pacing again. “Yes, the evidence appears to support it. No, it does not make sense. What we’re dealing with is…is science fiction. The chief is not going to want to hear that.”

  “Well,” Laura responded, “he’s absolutely going to want to hear something, and I’m not going to start making things up. The facts have led us to this, and he’s going to want facts. So, you tell me, what would you do if you were in my position?”

  “Look.” Dwayne stopped walking and sat down in the adjacen
t chair. Looking around cautiously, he said in a low voice, “I’m worried about what might happen to you, girl. I mean, you just came back from an extended administrative leave. You’ve got a lot of negative publicity in the media. No matter how conclusive things are, you go in there and start spouting off about the boogey man, and you may just be taking a permanent vacation.”

  “You don’t have to say a thing, Dwayne,” Laura responded sharply. “I know what’s going on, though, and I’m not backing down from the truth.”

  “Whoa, there’s that fire,” Dwayne said. “I know better than to get in front of that heat.” He took another cautious look around and motioned with his hands to keep the decibel levels down. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t have your back; I’m just saying be careful.”

  Fire and heat. It’s funny how being on the verge of ruining your career and looking like a crazy person in front of the boss could come across emotionally as being gritty and determined. Despite giving Dwayne that impression, she was a bundle of nerves and actually agreed with his concerns. It was another reason that she felt they made such a great team; he balanced her out. Although, she also had not progressed through the ranks by running scared from a challenge and not putting herself out there. Her mind was made up. “If it turns rough, I’ll take the brunt of the backlash. Just stop talking and ease out of it. There’s no reason for both of us to go down.”

  Neither of the two had spoken for the next few minutes, feeling like hours for Laura. She went over and over the phrasing in her head. Nothing sounded even remotely sane.

  Dwayne was the first to break the silence. “When you get fired and we’re no longer coworkers, you finally going to let me show you what a good time really is?”

  “Stop,” Laura answered, doing a poor job of hiding her amusement with an attempt at a serious expression. The moment of brevity was a nice relief from the tension, though, at least until the door to the chief’s office opened and they were called in.