Blood Ch 02

The woman was there, with Linc, her coal red eyes burning into him, her nails growing longer, claws now, and she was tearing at him, tearing into him, and it felt good, he could feel himself growing hard, he tried to scream, tried to protest, but he couldn't, maybe because his throat wouldn't work, his voice wouldn't come, but maybe because he didn't really want it to stop, he wanted his blood to flow, he wanted the sharp pain, he wanted the end...

~~~~~~~~~

Linc sat up quickly, throwing out an arm at the form above him, scrambling towards his jacket, towards his gun. Before he could reach it, his eyes adjusted, adjusted to the dim of the room, adjusted to Alex who was on the receiving end of his blow. He shook his head clear of any cobwebs and went over to her, helping her to her feet.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I was...dreaming. Sorry."

She smiled thinly at him.

"It's ok. I remember what those are like."

Linc figured he could have died right then of shame and it would have been deserving. Whether it was because of shoving Alex as he woke or what he had been dreaming about beforehand, he didn't take the time to figure out. Alex held out her hand, a menagerie of wrapped confections tightly gripped in her fist.

"I thought you might be hungry."

The chocolate bars and mixed nuts looked delicious, his stomach letting out an appreciative roar, but he held off until she assured him she wasn't hungry anymore. All reservations aside, he proceeded to rip into and devour the snacks until he was almost licking the wrapper clean. It felt like he hadn't eaten in days, and, to his own dismay, he probably hadn't.

What was happening to him? He had been at the top of his class in the academy, he had gotten through his mandatory patrol time with record speed, he had passed his detective's exam on the first run, and now he could barely remember to eat. This case, this woman, it was tearing him apart. He was sitting in some seedy motel, eating candy bars, with a girl at least ten years his junior. That is if she was telling the truth about her age, which she probably was, but then again it wouldn't have surprised him to find out he had suddenly developed cancer or had a tax audit coming up, his luck had been running so downhill lately. His luck had always been bad, he'd had a rough life growing up in New York, worked his ass off to make it through college himself, to advance in his career, but he had never doubted himself, until now. It felt like stuffing had been left out of his brain for the last 28 years and God, recognizing his mistake, had crammed in double over night to make up for his mistake. A few days rest would do him good, as last night invariably had done him good, as ashamed as he was to admit it. Alex was an adult though, and he hadn't made her do anything she didn't want to do. Lincoln sighed deeply, and wished that rationale made him feel any less guilty.

Alex was smiling at him as he ate, and suddenly he had the impression that despite his head start on her birthday wise, he was a lot younger than she was. She had taken the pigtails out of her hair and taken a shower, now sitting opposite him wrapped snugly in a bathrobe she had snagged from somewhere. Her hair slicked back, makeup off, dressed down as she was, she somehow looked somber, like her age was just an outfit she put on along with the school girl skirt. He reached a hand out and brushed her face affectionately. She didn't pull back at all this time, instead turning her face slightly to rest it against his palm, her eyes closed, her smile still on her face. He didn't know this girl, couldn't pretend that the few odds and ends he had dug up before last night explained who she was, but he suddenly knew that he wanted to. He wanted to know what she did on Christmas mornings, wanted to know what her favorite movie was, wanted to know if she took bubble baths, wanted to know all the little details that seem to get lost when you love someone. Surprisingly, he didn't feel love for her, at least not in the sense he was used to. He didn't obsess over spending the rest of his life with her, didn't blanch at the thought of her with another man, didn't feel content just staring at her, but somehow he felt that would come with time. As for right now, he just felt glad to know her, glad to have found this person amongst all the droves, glad for the chance to get to know her. She was sweet, and more than that, she was kind, and maybe it was working Homicide, or maybe it was just living in New York his whole life, but somehow he had forgotten there were people like that. He looked forward to being reminded.

She noticed him staring, smiled lightly at him, reaching up to brush her hair away from her eyes. Linc took her hand, firmly but gently, and put it down at her side, instead reaching up and brushing her hair away with his own hand, cupping her lovely face in his palm. She smiled again, a little brighter this time, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face against his rough skin. Whether it was a sign of not, he leaned in, closer, smelling the fresh, clean scent of her skin, the lavender of her hair, and he brushed the hair off her face with his nose, stealing in for a kiss. He felt her mouth react to his immediately, her lips splitting, her tongue lightly licking the outside of his mouth, then hungrily stabbing inside as she pulled him in closer.

Alex lay back, pulling his boxers aside as she went, the robe coming undone and falling on either side of her small, pale body. With a fluid motion, she was on her back, legs wrapped around him, and he was inside her, sliding in effortlessly. The feeling was incredible and he could hear Alex's quick intake of breath that told him she felt the same way about it. They stayed that way for a moment, him enjoying the warmth she seemed to radiate from within, her basking in the close, filled feeling that came with having him inside her. Then, suddenly, she was bringing her hips up to meet him, the bed creaking every time her small ass sank further down into it, then bouncing her back up and further impaling her on his cock. Linc had a brief moment to think about how most people paid extra for beds that weren't this soft, but the thought left him as he felt her hands on his shoulders, her head thrown back, blonde hair spilling over the pillow, mouth open on the verge of a moan. Her hands found his hair, pushing him down into her small breasts, and he obliged her, kissing and licking the hard nipples, sucking them into his mouth. He was rewarded with her moan finally reaching her lips, quickly breaking into a half scream, hands clamping down into his hair as she slammed back up to meet his dick.

With a small sound, more of a coo then a grunt, he felt her begin to orgasm, felt her tightening around him, felt her body begin to shake, and he gave one final thrust, harder than the rest, bringing her over. White marks followed her nails as she scratched across his back, her mouth locked open in ecstasy, finally clamping down on his shoulder to stifle the sound. He felt himself close to finishing himself, and he willed himself away from climax, trying not to listen to how good she sounded screaming into his shoulder, body convulsing, small breasts shimmering with perspiration. Slowing beneath him, her orgasm passed with a few muffled sighs. She brought her mouth up.

"God damn, that felt good."

Linc looked down on her, probably grinning like an idiot, not even halfway close to caring.

"What, are you finished or something?"

She smiled back up at him, spinning him over onto his back in response, the robe flying behind her like a terry cloth cape as she moved on top of him. His smile disappeared as she slammed back, filling herself up with him, both of their remarks lost in a mutual moan that filled the room.

~~~~~~~~~

The wind tussled his hair, blasting it at odd angles, and normally it would have made Linc feel self conscious, but he didn't even move to smooth it down. He had the smug inner satisfaction of a man still surprised when he got laid, and the self-confidence seemed to radiate off him in waves.

As he strode across the parking lot towards the strip club, his cop instincts failed him. He first should have noticed that even though it was 8 in the morning, the club door was still open, the open sign still on. He then should have noticed that the parking lot was bare save for the nearest row, namely the spots saved for employees, for the dancers. His mind was still on Alex though, replaying the sounds she made, the looks, and all these signs were lost to him. As he walked into the club however, his keen senses did notice the bodies.

The attack must have happened right as they were closing, after they had ushered the last customer out; that was the only explanation as to why it lay untouched, the police uncalled. The normal raucous music of the place was off, but the lights were still dimmed, still flashing around in a disco fashion. While the women were dancing, the lights seemed to make them look almost exotic, not real, like a fantasy. The same effect applied when the women were dead, though instead of a harem of the future, the place looked like some kind of carnival house of horrors.

Linc had almost tripped over the bouncer's legs as he had stumbled into the club, now, ten feet further, he almost tripped again on the same bouncer's upper torso. One of the girls had made it to the door it would seem, maybe trying to rush past the attacker, but she hadn't made it farther than that. She lay half in, half out of the glass display case used to show off club themed sex toys and souvenirs, her once pretty face now lying still between a black vibrator and a coffee mug. The power of the blow, Linc noticed, had not only thrown her through the glass, but also through the metal supports holding up the case itself; part of it lay pushed crudely into her up to her shoulder blades. Whether it was the flashing lights or the nondescript carnage, he suddenly had the urge to vomit. Bile rising in his throat, he quickly turned back to the outside, staring at the small blue patch of sky he could still see through the door. With time, the feeling past, and when he felt he could trust his legs again, he walked further into the club.

Two more dancers were dead on stage, both tied to a large silver pole that thrust into the ceiling. Both were upright, and at half glance, the strobe lights almost made them look like they were just dancing with each other, involved in one lurid sex act or another. Linc had the brief inclination to throw a dollar down onto the stage, but disgusted with himself, thrust the thought out of his mind. Having a sense of humor could be good or bad, depending on the timing, but any cop will tell you that after about two months on the force, you stopped being able to joke around at parties. The human mind had to deal with carnage somehow, and humor at it's blackest made the rounds at every police station in existence. Understandably, any further attempt to tell a joke after one had worked homicide for more than a year usually led to looks equal parts horror and disgust.

Leaving the intertwined women, he approached the final victim. Lying across the floor, almost elegantly, he could see she was fully clothed, marking her as one of the waitresses. Her eyes were closed, thankfully, and despite the carnage around her, he could almost imagine she was just sleeping. Moving in closer, he put his hand on her neck. The ice that greeted his fingertips told him that she was dead, but he lingered for a minute, looking for a pulse anyway. When none came he looked her over. Besides being unnaturally pale, he couldn't see anything wrong with her. While the others had been incapacitated in unusually gruesome fashions, he couldn't see so much as a mark on the body. Superstitiously, he checked her neck, but no marks were there either. As he stood, he almost ran straight into the woman.

A few inches below his own eye line, her eyes glowed the hollow radiance he had seen earlier. At this close, he could make out that her two eyeteeth were, indeed, slightly sharper than the rest, although not as much as he would have expected. He backed up with a cry, tripping over the waitress, sprawling backwards onto his back. The woman strode forward, teeth still exposed in a small grin, hovering over him. The black skirt she was wearing seemed to flow over his torso as she stood over him, and he had to fight back the crazy assumption that as she left he would find that none of his lower body remained.

He felt his sanity creeping down towards his stomach somewhere, but below that, he felt exposed the millions of questions he had been asking himself lately. Who was this woman? What did she want? Why? His words stumbled out.

"What...the fuck..."

Not quite what he had in mind. She smiled with surprising warmth at his befuddlement.

"I made this for you."

Her voice sounded like she had been smoking for the past three decades, then, deciding that it wasn't quite deep enough, had developed chronic bronchitis to reach the right jazz singer quality. It left a weird echoing feeling in his head, and he shook it to clear out the cobwebs. She raised her arms, gesturing around the club.

"It's for you. I thought you'd be happy."

Linc looked around, at the blood, the carnage, then at this smiling woman.

"Yay?"

She grinned wider, putting her hands on her hips, like some kind of Goth cheerleader entering a routine.

"I thought you would like it."

"Have you ever thought of flowers? Maybe a new coffee pot? I mean, blood and carnage is this year's new Tickle Me Elmo, but a new coffee pot is the gift that keeps on giving."

He had the tendency to talk when he was nervous. He was very, very, nervous.

"Not that. Her. Angel."

He looked at the waitress that he had recently tripped over, and, indeed, saw her nametag read Angel. He wondered if it was a stage name or her real name, then somberly realized he probably would never know.

"She's perfect, don't you think?" she went on. "I thought you would like her. She's so much more...interesting...than the one you've got holed up in that hotel right now. Blonde is just so...plain."

Linc's blood turned to ice.

"But this one...this one's a keeper. You should have seen her fight when she died. If you massage the breast just right, slip one finger in the right spot, you can actually get them to orgasm right as they go. This one...she screamed, but you could tell she was feeling it. Most people are too afraid of letting go to really enjoy it. I felt her heartbeat stop in her chest, and then, a few seconds later, I felt her orgasm subside. And she enjoyed it, she wasn't afraid of death, she was really feeling it. She's a keeper. I hope you enjoy her."

Linc stared at her, as if this whole monologue had been in Swahili.

"I probably would have enjoyed her a little more," he started, "if she were breathing."

The woman clucked her tongue.

"Now now. Don't knock it 'til you try it."

She suddenly fell to her knees, her legs straddling him, her hands softly pressing onto his chest. He might have been turned on if he hadn't been lying on top of the body of a recently killed woman whose parents may or may not have named her Angel. With her body weight on top of him, he spread his arms behind him to stop from falling further backwards. His right hand briefly touched metal, and he grasped what he hoped was something heavy and swing able. Her hands rode up his chest, feeling under his shirt, running through his chest hair and up under his jaw line.

"I've been watching you for a long time, Lincoln. You're really quite interesting. A completely moral man, hindered only by your complete lack of will power and strong constitution. I think you'll lead a boring life left to your own devices. I'd really like to see what an eternity will turn you into."

"Um...thanks?"

"It's a good thing, don't worry. Would you like me to kill you now or later?"

"Never? Is never an option?"

She smiled again, that weirdly wolf like grin, and gracefully got to her feet and backed away from him.

"It's no fun if you don't beg for it. By the time I'm done with you, you'll wish I'd killed you today. You'll beg me to spill your blood over my hands, and be so gripped by madness that you'll laugh when I lap it up."

She backed away towards the door, still smiling, as if she hadn't just threatened him but rather promised him she'd take him out for martinis later. He supposed he should make a move, but for some reason his head and everything below it didn't really seem to be following orders.

"You like her don't you?"

He wasn't sure if she was talking about Alex or the dead waitress, but either way, no seemed the appropriate answer.

"No."

"You lie. I can smell your feelings coming off you in waves."

"That must be a handy talent."

"You know I can kill her don't you?"

He looked down at the waitress, at the bodies all around him. Yes. Yes, he definitely knew that.

"You know there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop me."

Something in the way she said it, not just that she said it, sparked Linc's legs and arms to life, and with a speed that seemed almost superhuman, he swung the metal bar. It turned out to be chair leg, broken in the festivities, and he swung it hard enough to crack her head in two. It never reached her. He felt something soft, almost like a strong wind, and suddenly she was no longer in front of him, the bar had been knocked out of his hand, and he was being held up by the neck against a wall. He had barely seen her move. She bared her teeth at him, but the grin still hinted around the sides of her mouth. Not like that mattered; he let out a frightened shout that betrayed whatever little bravery he felt he had.

"I'll kill her, rape her, do whatever I want to her. And there's nothing you can do about it. If you tell her you've seen me, if you do anything to warn her, I'll kill her. Painfully. If you fail to do anything I say, I'll kill her. In fact, I might just kill her anyway. But your only chance to save her is to do what I say and hope I feel...charitable..."

He could see dark spots dancing around his vision, and he knew he was going to faint. It didn't strike him as an incredibly manly thing to do, so he forced himself away from the brink, concentrating on her words. She was going to kill Alex, he knew that, he had been a good cop at one point. Kill him too, as soon as she got bored.

"Fine," he choked. "What...do you want me to do?"

She smiled again, dropped him, gasping, to his knees. She dangled a silver key down next to his face. With dismay he noticed it was a key from their hotel, and with more dismay he noticed it was the room right next to theirs.

"Just keep her in the room. I'm sure you can think of...something...to occupy your time together. I'll be in touch."

"Oh, yeah. And my name's Kara," she called as she disappeared through the door. "It's nice to finally meet you."