A soul sucking redhead visits Boston. Sex & death follow.
^^^
Boston, MA Wednesday, November 1st
"Captain! Captain!" a young, aggressive reporter shouted trying to get the attention of the policeman as he ended his news conference concerning a new community police program.
The blond women with the pixie haircut shouted her question, "Any comment on the allegation that your officers are having sex parties while they are on the clock and inviting fellow officers to come and watch?"
"What?"
The police captain was stunned by the question. "What evidence do you have to make that wild accusation?"
The journalist wiggled her way through the crowd of reporters until she was directly in front of him. She held up her tablet and said, "This evidence."
She pressed play and a video ran. The captain saw two nude people engaging in mutual oral sex. The camera panned around and focused on the kneeling woman's slim ass. Her pussy was being tongued by a dark-haired man underneath her. She had a mass of red pubic hair.
"Do you deny the woman is Sergeant Colleen O'Hara?"
The camera zoomed in on her bearded pussy and pink asshole. The captain gulped and nervously said, "Ah. Ah. I don't recognize that. Err... her."
The camera panned to the woman's head. A redhead was bobbing up and down on a firm cock. The woman paused, released the dick and sat up. The video showed her petite, well-formed breasts and her face. The captain gasped and said, "That's Colleen O'Hara!"
The angle of the camera changed and now it showed two uniform officers in the room watching Colleen and some man doing an enthusiastic "69" on a hotel bed.
"Oh my God!" the captain cried out. "How did you get that video?"
"It was recently uploaded to the internet," the blond responded smugly.
"This news conference is over," he shouted. He rushed from the stage. He hissed to a subordinate, "Bring me Colleen O'Hara!"
^^^
Doolin in County Clare, Ireland 1838
"Ahhh!"
The high-pitch, bloodcurdling scream came from a frightened twelve-year-old ginger. A mob with torches was outside her ramshackle cottage. They were shouting, cursing and making threats against her mother, Catriona.
"Burn the witch! Burn the devil's handmaiden!"
"No!" Brianna, the scared redheaded girl, shouted. She ran to her mother who stood in the open doorway facing the mob. She hid behind her and clutched at her skirt.
"Don't take my mother!"
Her mother tried to stare down the mob. "Friends, why are you here? Aiden, are you seeking my help again for your cows? Last year, you begged me to cure them. Are they producing sour milk again?"
She looked to another man and said, " Liam, how's your cock working? Better? Stiff enough to pleasure and impregnate that new, young wife of yours?"
Both men averted their eyes. They were ashamed to have been identified as having sought out the help of the wise woman who they now accused of being a witch.
"Neighbors, we have lived in peace for years. I've helped many of you when the crops were bad or you and your family were ill. Why turn on me now?"
A man wearing a black robe and holding a large silver crucifix stepped to the fore. The new village priest shouted, "Don't listen to her. She is the devil's tool and has used his unholy power to blind you to her real intention. The witch is corrupting your souls and wants to rob you of your rightful place in heaven.
"She's done things no mortal can. Look at her! The bright red hair. It is the color of the fire of Hell!"
He succeeded in stirring up the passion of the mob. They rushed forward and grabbed Catriona. The rabble screamed and cheered as they carried her away.
Fiona, a destitute widow who'd recently been taken in by Brianna's mother managed to sneak the child away while the throng stripped the healer and so-called witch. They tied the naked woman to a stake as Fiona and the child ran through the woods.
Brianna and Fiona escaped from the mob, but they couldn't get far enough away not to hear Catriona's screams as the fire consumed her. The screams of her mother still echoed in her ears nearly two hundred years after the horrific event.
^^^
Boston, MA Monday, October 30th
"Ahh. No," Brianna murmured. She woke from a sound sleep having re-lived the traumatic day when her mother was taken and burnt alive. She sat up, feeling queasy and covered in sweat.
Even though that event had happened many years ago, the pain and anger she felt were as vivid as the day it occurred. She took a deep breath and gathered her wits. She looked around and saw that she was in a hotel room.
"Boston," she said out loud. She said, "I'm in Boston and I'm performing at The Black Rose. I have the early set starting at 6:30 p.m."
The Irish lass had come to America in 1850 as part of the large wave of immigrants fleeing the Emerald Isle due to the Great Irish Famine. She made a living as a traveling folk singer. She sang mainly Irish songs in pubs and small venues in Canada and the United States.
The vagabond lifestyle worked her. She'd seen what happened to her mother when she tried to settle down and be part of the community. She also learned that if you stay around too long, people ask questions, like 'How come you never seem to age?'.
Brianna was a beautiful, vivacious redhead who appeared to be in her late twenties. She'd looked like that for 163 years. Ever since she accepted that she was a soulless, redheaded witch who killed mortals and consumed their souls.
She yawned and smacked her lips. She was hungry and not for breakfast. There was a reason she'd had the awful nightmare. It was a sign that if she wanted to stay strong and young, she needed to take another soul.
This was her first day in Boston. She preferred stealing souls at the end of her engagements. That way, she was out of town when the body was discovered. It wasn't a hard-and-fast rule. She'd been doing this a long time and no one had yet caught on.
She would satisfy her need, her hunger. She would feed tonight.
^^^
"Captain, you have to be fucking kidding me!" Colleen complained.
Her superior officer in the Boston police department pretended to be surprised at her foul language.
"Colleen Bridget O'Hara! What would your mother think, God rest her soul, if she her you speak like that? Surely, she'd turn over in her grave!"
"Why me?" she repeated.
"You should consider hosting a police officer from one of Boston's official sister cities an honor, Sergeant O'Hara," he said facetiously.
"Look," he said seriously, "I'm stuck. The mayor came up with this asinine idea of having Boston and our sister cities exchange police officers. It's part of his cultural exchange program.
"Some detective from Padua, Italy is here for a week. You're my only sergeant not involved in any serious investigations so you get him. Take him out dinner or for a drink. Let him shadow you at work. Then, get him to the airport on time to catch his flight home. Got it?"
Colleen understood. Someone in the PD was going to get stuck with this bullshit assignment and she was the unlucky person. She recognized it was pointless to argue more. She saluted and said, "Yes, sir."
Her captain commiserated with her. He said, "I'll owe you one. The guy's name is Giovanni Saladino. He'll be up in a few minutes. I had the desk sergeant give him a tour of the station. Ah, here he comes. Be nice!"
The captain smiled broadly and said, "Sergeant Saladino, may I introduce you to your liaison with the Boston PD. This is Detective Sergeant Collen O'Hara. Collen, Sergeant Giovanni Saladino."
The captain bolted from the room as the two sergeants shook hands. They eyed each other. They were about the same age, early thirties. Surprisingly, they were the same height, 5' 6".
Gio was handsome and manly. He had on an elegant, tailored Italian suit. He had dark hair, a thick, dark mustache, and piercing eyes He was a powerfully built man. He carried himself in such a confident manner that Colleen forgot that he was short.
Giovanna saw a typical Boston Irish cop. Colleen had bright red hair, intense green eyes, and tons of freckles on her pale skin. She was a slender woman with a small bust and a tight, firm ass. She wore a cheap, green pantsuit. The suit did nothing to flatter her fit body. However, the color matched her eyes and made them seem large and luminous.
"Ciao," he said in a gracious manner. His handshake was firm, but not overpowering. He sensed she was annoyed. He said, "Sergeant, I know you didn't get into this profession to babysit foreign visitors.
"It's 18:30. Point me in the direction of one of Boston's famous bars and you can go home to your husband and children."
Colleen blushed and said, "I'm not married and I don't have any kids. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to bow out, but that wouldn't be right and you and I are in the business of doing what is right.
"There's a great Irish bar, The Black Rose, within a ten-minute walk. Can I buy you a drink?"
"I never say no to a beautiful woman."
She blushed again. Colleen was not a beautiful woman, but she was attractive. When she was a child, the other kids teased her saying she looked like the unfortunate offspring of Bozo the Clown and Raggedy Ann. She grew into a pretty woman with a shock of red hair, large eyes and an athletic build.
She paused, smiled and said, "I see it isn't only the Irish who have the gift of gab. Sir, you are too kind."
The two detectives discussed cases and policing during their walk and after they were seated and drinking Guinness. Colleen relaxed. Gio, as he insisted she call him, was not a burden. He was a smart, dedicated detective and an elegant, attractive man.
It had been a long time since Colleen was with a man who was so attentive. She accepted his invitation to stay for dinner. They watched a beautiful, talented Irish folk singer perform.
^^^
"Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountain side. The summer's gone, and all the roses falling, It's you, it's you must go and I must bide."
Brianna sang the whole song in a clear, strong voice. The crowd in the pub applauded loudly. She took a deep bow. Her long, red hair spilled forward and obscured her face. She stood, smiled, and left the small stage. She put her guitar away and headed to the bar.
"A Guinness draught," she said to the bartender as she eased into an empty stool at the bar.
