THE RENFIELD CHRONICLES:
THE OFFICIAL COMPENDIUM OF THE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE GLORIUS EMPIRE
Chronicles Present

My Sanguine Valentine


“O” walked the street in the cold February midday looking for the address on the card he carried in his coat’s breast pocket. He strode the crowded thoroughfare dressed in dark winter colors from head to toe blending in well with the similarly clad people who bustled down the busy New York street which he walked with the confidence of one who had been born and raised there. Here and there people would display splashes of white, red or pink to show affection for their loved ones. It was Valentine’s Day a joyous day in the city, but for O it was just another work day.

He tried to imagine what  Mirelle would be doing that day… probably receiving roses from her new lover followed by the inevitable evening of romance, wine and love-making until dawn. At least that’s what they used to do when they were together. It was almost two years since their break-up but the pain still felt new…when he allowed himself to think about it, but he didn’t allow himself to think about it. He worked.

When the four-year relationship came to an abrupt end and his friends tried to console him, he rejected their consolation… He worked. When his brother tried to introduce him to other women, he worked. When his co-workers tried to involve him in social activities, he worked…until no one gave a damn anymore and let him drown himself in work. Suddenly he had the sensation of being very alone and the cold February day felt even colder.

He stopped in his tracks and looked across the street toward the corner of Nostrand and Gates. He hated this part of his job. It was basically a cold call. There had been a security breach at Renfield International that led back to an apartment at this address. Normally, this was not something he would do himself. There were others in Corporate Security that were hired to do such things, but since he was in the city and had nothing else to do… (seeing as it was Valentine’s Day) he decided to run the errand himself.

The apartment was on the twelfth floor and because the place was dedicated primarily to housing for senior citizens, it was rather heavily secured. There were cameras at the end of the block, at the electronically accessed doorway and at the secured entrance desk where the concierge sat. He was also pretty certain there were cameras at the elevator bank and on each hallway. O knew how to quietly slip or break locks and steal codes. He knew how to quickly ascend stairs and gain entry through any vent, shaft, door or window. That was his job. The trick this time was doing it in broad daylight without being seen.

From across the street he could read the access codes that a few residents entered on the keypad. Yes, his vision was perfect, not human perfect but Renfield perfect and that really meant something.

Most people knew Renfield International as the silk stocking of corporate institutions. With a presence on every habitable continent, the family-owned multi-national corporation was involved in the purchase, sale or manufacture of almost everything that anyone required to work, play, eat or sleep. From the soaps to wash with to the steel in the cars and houses to the textiles used to make clothing…Renfield International had its hand in just about everything. O knew nearly everything there was to know about his family’s history. The Board of Directors required that all Corporate Security personnel understand their origins and history to ascertain any possible weaknesses in their corporate structure, institutions and themselves.

In certain circles because of their seeming agelessness and extensive life spans it was rumored that Renfields were part vampire, but O knew that they were not, primarily because there was no such thing as vampires…well…not exactly.

                                                                                      -o)0(o-

There were many things that Paradoxans (humans) didn't know about the universe.  One of them was the existence of a greater universe...the omnisverse which was populated with beings from dimensions and planets beyond their comprehension.  One of those dimensions was home to the Revenants, beings who were ancestors and kin to those that the Paradoxans call "vampires."  These civilized beings upon immigration to the Paradox found the environment toxic to their kind.  But once they were exposed to Paradox they were no longer fit to return home.  The Paradox awakened primal predatory instincts in them that could not be contained.  They were required to make lives for themselves in the Paradox but were also constrained to remain hidden.

As time passed the Revenants found that despire their many physical advantages over the native Paradoxans, they were unable to survive even along the perimeter of Paradoxan society without interaction with them.  Therefore for purposes of survival they recruited Paradoxan helpers and after many generations the Revenants bred with Pardoxans to create the first generation of Renfields, whose sole original purpose was to serve the needs of the Paradoxan Revenants. From these humble beginnings the Renfield family, now Renfield International, the vast and powerful corporate entity came to be.

Renfield Corporate Security, run by Ramona Stone Forza maintained the first line of defense against corporate waste and espionage, and as one of Ramona’s trusted lieutenants, O was paid a handsome salary to track down and eradicate any and all persons and/or things that might be a threat to either Renfield dominance or Revenant security.

He drew his attention back to the task at hand as the next resident entered the building. If it had been after dark, it would have only taken a second to enter the stolen pass code on the keypad and then less than a minute to make his way upstairs. After nightfall he couldn’t be detected by the naked eye if he wanted to remain anonymous and invisible when he was dephazed. The more youthful of the Renfields referred to it by the technical term, “dephazing” even though many of the old-timers still called it “misting.” In his dephazed form he could ride elevators, walk through crowds, even enter and examine a residence while the family sat eating dinner and do so completely undetected. His problem however was that it was midday and there were a multitude of video cameras onsite which were not so quick to be deceived. So he had to consider another route.

The unit was on the twelfth floor. He presumed from the building schematics he reviewed before heading out that the apartment was close to the end of the hall not too far from the fire escape. He approached the building from the alley and considered the two story jump from the ground level to the second floor where the first set of rungs for fire escape began. With no cameras in view he decided to make the jump, then ran up the remaining ten floors. At the twelfth floor, the only access was through the bedroom window of an occupied unit.

Although dephazing was not as reliable in the daylight hours, it usually gave him that moment of disbelief that a human might have when seeing a man casually cross though their living room as if he were strolling through the park. In the time it would take them to double take, he’d be gone. He slipped out the front door of the apartment leaving bewildered and incredulous residents in his wake as he entered the hallway leading to unit 1217.

He dephazed right before he reached the door, then rapped sharply, his leather gloves muting the sound slightly. When no one answered he prepared to knock again when the door flew open.

“Mr. Salinas?” the pretty olive-skinned brunette smiled as she opened the door. The smell of incense burning in the apartment could have knocked him over. He hated incense. It was one of his few sensitivities. It burned his eyes and eliminated any of his inherited advantages as to smell and also impeded his hearing at higher ranges. He looked over the woman’s head into the nicely furnished room and by habit noted all the points of ingress and egress and any possible hiding places. He was ushered across the room and sat at the chair she directed him to then she immediately began speaking to him in Spanish at breakneck speed.

O’s father had spoken Spanish along with a dozen other languages as part of his duties as an in-house Revenant handler but he rarely spoke it at home. O understood some of the language, but his father (intentionally O believed) never taught him how to speak it. From his limited exposure to the language, O believed the woman was saying something about a picture, an auction, a fee but it was all too fast.

“Por favor…please,” he said to her, “I don’t speak Spanish.”

The smile on the brunette’s face faded into a frown, then distrust as she backed toward the door.

“Who are you?” She asked in English, “And how did you get in here?”

“My name is Azziz, Omran Azziz and I believe I am speaking with Leila Romero,” he replied without moving from the chair.

“What do you want?” She asked as she seemingly looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon against the intruder.

“That is precisely my question to you, Ms. Romero. What is it that you want? What were you looking for on the Renfield International main server?” He asked.

“Who are you?” She asked again, backing toward the door.

“Omran Azziz…Renfield. An assistant director of Renfield International Corporate Security.”

The woman’s face flushed red slightly, then she squared her shoulders, “You’re an intruder in my home, sir. I’ll call the police,” she said confidently grabbing the phone from its cradle.

“Yes, you do that. And what will you tell them?” O asked, “That from your very modest apartment on Nostrand and Gates you were hacking the computer system of a Fortune 50 company and got caught? I wonder how the authorities would feel about that, Leila? I can call you Leila, right?”

O could see in her eyes that she was furious so he was impressed when she replied with a more reserved tack.

“I didn’t take anything,” she said looking pitiful and demure.

“What about trade secrets?” He asked.

“Trade secrets?” She laughed not being able to hold onto her faked pitiful expression, “The information in those files had to be decoys. They were so outdated, no one could possibly take them seriously.”

O smiled. They were decoys, but he knew that it still would have taken a master hacker to even get that far into the system.

“So you were hacking my system, Leila? Naughty girl.” he said in a way that was syrupy and wicked, “You deserve a good spank.”

“I’m sure you’ve deserved more than a few in your time,” she replied as she moved into the kitchen, “Coffee, tea, perhaps a little fresh lamb’s blood,” she smiled a knowing mischievous smile.

O laughed, So, she knew a little something.

Despite the circumstances, he was enjoying the back and forth of the conversation. He had caught her red-handed, but it seemed the more she was trapped the more bold she became.

“So, Miss Leila,” he asked, “What do you propose I do with you?”

But Leila’s response was interrupted by a knock at the door. O sitting comfortably in the chair gave a small wave with the back of his hand giving her permission to answer. She quickly unlocked the door and threw it open to find a man in his thirties, of medium build, not too much taller than she, standing on the other side. She frantically grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the room shouting and gesturing toward the chair where O was seated.

“This man forced his way into my apartment!” She cried.

But the man simply stared at her, confused.

“What man?” The guest asked. And indeed when Leila turned around, O had vanished. She and the man searched every inch of the apartment but could find no trace of Omran Azziz Renfield. After fifteen minutes of looking they finally gave up.

“Oh, by the way,” the man said extending his hand, “I’m Hector Salinas.”

“Yes, Mr. Salinas,” Leila smiled, “You’ve come about the painting.”

“Yes…the painting,” he smiled in return.

“All right, wait right here and I’ll get it for you,” she nodded then slipped into her studio where the painting was hanging. When she returned with the framed canvas in hand, Mr. Salinas had shed his coat and was going through her refrigerator.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, but he appeared undaunted and merely called back over his shoulder, “Do you have anything in here stronger than soft drinks?”

“Ummm, no,” she replied, “I have the canvas, here so we can complete the transaction.”

‘It’s still early,” He responded as he turned opening a can of soda, “I don’t have anywhere to go right now, so no hurry.”

“Well, certainly,” She replied looking a bit uncomfortable, as she took the canvas into the living area and stood near the chair formerly occupied by the Renfield International executive.

“What do you think of the painting?” She asked as the man looked her over critically, “I have the paperwork to prove its provenance.” She offered, but he made no move to examine the painting.

“I thought you would be a little shorter,” the man said as he took off his gloves then pulled out a handkerchief and slowly began wiping down the soda can, “Your profile said 5’3” but you’re really closer to 5’4” aren’t you?

“Yes, I guess I’m not quite 5’4” but close enough,” she said watching as he carefully placed the soda can on the side table.

“Well then,” he said sitting down with a toothy grin and motioning her to come closer, “Let’s see that painting.”

-o)0(o-

The incense in the air was so thick that O was barely able to dephaze and hide in the closet when Mr. Salinas walked through the door. When Leila and Salinas searched the apartment and finally looked into the closet, for a moment he thought that he had rephazed because it appeared that Leila was looking him right in the eye before they backed out and continued the search elsewhere. There was something unsettling about Leila and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. His sense of smell was useless and there was a strange buzzing in his head making him lightheaded and unfocused. O didn’t like the way this was playing out. He stood in the closet, the door slightly ajar feeling that something was very wrong as Leila showed the painting to the purchaser.

“So what do you think?” Leila asked as she stood in front of Mr. Salinas with the painting.

“Very nice,” he said looking at her curves not paying much attention to the painting. He stood and took the painting from her giving it a cursory glance at arm’s length.

“I-I noticed that you had bid on one of his works in an earlier auction and thought you’d be interested in this one.”

“Yes, yes,” He said as he sat the painting on the floor, “So, you live here alone?”

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“I mean…you’re single, right?” He asked as he approached her with a strange look in his eye.

-o)0(o-

O stood immobilized in the closet. He was certain that the haze from the incense was beginning to play tricks on him because one minute the buyer Mr. Salinas was seated speaking about the painting, then the next he was grappling with Leila on the floor. He heard the rip of fabric as the man slapped her face and tore open her blouse. When the man spoke, it was in Spanish and O only understood some of it, but what he did understand was, “You’re just like all the rest of them…whores and teases…I’ve killed so many like you, the world should thank me!” Or something very close to it. O tried to shake off the effects of the incense but his mind remained cloudy and unfocused. He knew he was useless as a defender under the influence of the incense but when the thought came to him to just throw himself into the room, at least to create a distraction so she could get away, he heard her scream, “Don’t!”

O stopped short and watched as Mr. Salinas made the fatal mistake of believing that Leila’s plea was directed at him. Salinas believed that he had cornered yet another helpless victim. But O saw the smirk on her face and the unmistakable glimmer of light reflected off the points of pearly white fangs. He knew then that she could see him in the darkness of the closet, that she had known he was there all along and that she was in all probability going to drain Salinas…right in front of him.

“Oh no, please don’t!” She feigned terror for Salinas but shot a clandestined wink at O as he stood immobilized in the closet.

Salinas now straddled the woman, his hand around her throat as he prepared to administer a blow to her temple. In all likelihood it was calculated to render her unconscious during the rape, if not the murder thereafter. But just prior to striking it’s target, the petite brunette grabbed the assailant’s fist mid-swing stopping the blow mere inches from its intended target.

“Pienso que estas equivocado, Sr. Salinas. Nunca ha matado ninguna persona como yo,” She smiled allowing her now prominent fangs to show.

O didn’t know exactly what she had said, but he knew that whatever it was, it meant that Salinas’ time was just about up.

“Dios mio!” Salinas shrieked as the woman proceeded to crush the hand she held captive, as she not too gently forced him off of her. Her first blow broke his nose. The second doubled him over onto the floor where he sat sobbing nursing his hand and babbling incoherently while she snuffed the incense and opened the closet door.

“A company man,” she snorted as she dragged O out of the closet, lifted him over her shoulder and deposited him back on the chair he originally occupied.

“You’re Renfield,” he noted hoarsely as he tried to clear his head.

“Technically,” she replied as she sized up Salinas on the floor who continued to whimper in horror.

“You’re a Renegade, aren’t you?” O posed the question already knowing the answer, then fully understood why she had hacked the system.

Leila Romero, if indeed that was her real name was a Renegade. Renegade Renfields were a source of familial embarrassment as much as they were a security risk. Each year a small minority of family members, not truly appreciating the total family vision attempted to break away from the fold, and like a good shepherd Corporate Security’s job was to gather those lost lambs and bring them home. Having a Renegade in one’s immediate family was a source of great shame, a shame he knew well in having a brother on the run for the past several years.

“What did you put in that incense?” O asked from his position on the chair.

“Trade secret,” she retorted.

“You could have killed me with it.”

“It won’t kill you. It’s just meant to take you out of commission for a while. I’m sure you’ll make a complete recovery.”

“You know I have to take you in,” he croaked out as she left him and stood over Salinas with fangs bared.

“You couldn’t pull out your willie to go to the john by yourself right now much less take me anywhere. So ‘can it’ will you while I deal with him.”

“You heard what he said about murdering other women. You should hand him over to the Paradoxan authorities.”

“Yeah, right. Then what am I supposed to eat?”

O was stunned. True Leila was a Renegade but only Revenants and their bastard Orphan offspring ever consumed Paradoxans.

“Oh don’t look so horrified,” she said holding Salinas by the hair. She turned his head this way then that examining the neck of her intended prey as he cowered in fear, “It’s in our blood, in our nature.”

“We’re civilized, Leila. We don’t have to kill in order to eat.”

“We were born to kill in order to eat, Omran...if I can call you Omran.” She said as she peeled off her torn blouse and stepped out of her skirt.

If not for the severe breach of regulations he would have laughed. The pink cotton and lace bra and panties were a far cry from the cold-blooded killer he knew she could be.

“What? You don’t think I could kill you wearing pink?” She asked.

“So, you’re a reader, too?” He asked.

“No, not so much. I’m empathic, but I do have some minor reading abilities.”
“I figured as much. You read me while I was in the closet.”

“I didn’t necessarily have to ‘read’ you to know what you were planning to do. I felt the change in your heart rate and heard your respiration even out. You were getting ready to do something and you needed to be still.”

She dropped to her knees next to Salinas and said, “This can either hurt a little or a lot. I suggest you keep still in order to keep the pain to a minimum, but you know it really makes no difference to me what you do.” Then with no additional warning, she savagely sank her fangs into his throat. Salinas’ eyes were fixed in horror and he flailed helplessly while Leila held him down and drank for several minutes. O could see her taking the deep inhalations it took to draw blood from a live victim and unconsciously he drew breath in time with her. When she was done, she tossed Salinas’ body to the side. He lay mumbling and aware but unable to move as Leila crawled toward O.

“Mmmmm,” She sighed breathless and satiated as she propped her folded arms on his bent knees, “His profile said he liked spicy food.” She laughed, “and I was definitely in the mood for something spicy.”

“You know consuming Paradoxans is strictly regulated. Do you know how many protocols you’ve broken?”

“Blah, blah, blah,” She mocked rolling her eyes.

O had no love whatsoever for the vermin that Salinas was, but there were realities that Leila didn’t want to face.

When a Revenant killed it was the Renfields who were responsible for cleaning up the mess, and that responsibility ran from the in-house handlers up through the elite of the Investigations and Enforcement Division which Corporate Security fell under. The Renfields were the buffer zone between the Revenants and the Paradoxans which suffered them to maintain a detachment from the bloodshed and with it a certain air of moral superiority. But when a Renfield killed it was more than the distasteful duty of tracking down and incarcerating one of your own, or the shame of giving in to one’s baser instincts; the truth was that the penalty for a Renfield for the same crime was far more severe than that of a Revenant.

For even some of the most serious offenses a Revenant suffered what was basically the equivalent of extended house arrest, but not so for a Renfield…a Renfield was subject to an indeterminate stay at the Lathe. Even uttering the name of the place was enough to send a chill through a room of the most hardcore members of Investigations and Enforcement. The Lathe was the Renfield reformatory located in the barren zone between the Paradox and the Abyss. None who ever returned from the place would speak of it, and their fear ran so deep that most others were sufficiently warned as a result. Saying the name was a thing so foul as it was almost considered a curse.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough Leila?”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about this Paradoxan worm?” She sighed as she examined Salinas’ neck for a new spot on which to take hold.

“You know that’s not my concern. What would happen if you do this thing in front of me? You know what I would have to do.”

“And what would you do, Omran? Tell on me? You should be more concerned about whether you’ll get out of this room alive, yourself.”

Although the thought had occurred to him early on that she could realistically kill him, he dismissed it. He was not empathic, but he was pretty certain that she wouldn’t. Renegade or not, it just wasn’t the Renfield way. To kill kindred was simply much too gauche.

“You know I don’t care about your friend,” O said, “But you know that if you’re found out, they’ll hunt you down and send you…there. You know that.”

“Well, I haven’t been caught, yet.” She grinned.

And as if right on cue, the buzz of his mobile phone sounded.

After the third tone, O asked, “Are you going to get that?”

“Why should I?” She asked still focusing on Salinas’ neck.

“Because if you don’t they’ll come looking for me…and I don’t think you want that.”

Leila rolled her eyes then approached O and began rifling through his pockets. She pulled out the phone, dropped onto his lap then held the phone up to his ear.

“O” O said into the receiver.

“I was about to call out the cavalry. How’s it going?” Ramona replied,

“It’s about what we thought.”

“Specify.” He heard Ramona say in that no nonsense tone she used during office hours.

“Some jerk,” he accented the word and smirked at Leila, “thought it would be fun to hack the computer of a multinational corporation.”

“Is it under control, O?”

“It’s under control.”

“Call me when it’s taken care of. I should be at the office, late.”

O nodded letting Leila know that the call was over. As she slipped the phone back into his pocket he noticed the droplets of blood that clung to the tips of her still prominent fangs. That’s also when he noticed that she was staring at him. It was then that he realized he was licking his lips.

Leila leaned forward then stared into his eyes in a way that was as provocative and serious as he had ever seen and asked him, “Aren’t you even curious?” She squeezed his arm tightly and whispered, “And don’t lie. I’ll know.”

In any other circumstance he could have blocked her attempt to read him, but not with the effect of the incense still lingering. Besides, he didn’t see the point in lying, anyhow.

“Of course I’m curious about it. I’m a Renfield. What Renfield wouldn’t be curious?” He huffed indignantly.

“Then try it,” she whispered conspiratorially, “No one would know.”

“I would know,” he said, “And that would be enough. I’m on duty and it would be a serious breach.”

“All right,” she said mischievously then shifted seductively on his lap, “Well then…are you maybe curious about anything else?”

“Don’t Leila,” he said sharply, but after two years of abstinence and with his resistance worn paper thin, his body reacted despite his practiced defenses.

“Well,” She purred as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “It looks like someone wants to come out and play.”

“It’s the incense,” he countered a little embarrassed that he was unable to control his most basic urges, but his body continued to respond to her impromptu lap dance.

“My goodness,” she laughed, “That’s some concealed weapon you’re carrying!”

O tried his best to push the gyrating vixen off his lap but to no avail. She was in the grip of an intense blood lust and even if his physical control had returned, he would have been in no condition to resist for long.

“Oh, don’t worry company man, I won’t jeopardize your position,” she scoffed as she slid off his lap and returned to her victim.

O breathed a sigh of relief as she refocused her attention on her victim and he tried to think of everything else in the world besides dark hair, voluptuous curves and pink panties.

“Great!” She huffed with her hands on her hips, “That phone conversation lost me a good artery.”

“You didn’t need it any way,” O said feeling the sensation coming back to his hands and shoulders.

“It’ll take another fifteen minutes for him to be any good,” she grumbled then fixed her attention back on O. “So are you starting to get any feeling back?”

“Not much,” O lied and made damned sure to block it.

She eyed him suspiciously, “It should have begun to wear off.”

“Maybe I’m more sensitive than you thought. You’re lucky you didn’t kill me.”

“I think you mean you’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”

“You’re really a pain in the ass, Leila. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Salinas began to moan and weep pitifully, and Leila replied by administering a sharp kick to his ribs. The man continued to cry and in Spanish entreated O to help him. It was difficult for O to suppress his disgust for the Paradoxan but he focused on Leila and how he was going to convince her not to drink her way to nonstop trip to the Lathe. Sure he had just met her, but it wasn’t in his nature to just let someone take a nosedive into hell if he could help it. When Salinas’ carrying on got to the point where Leila could no longer ignore him, she knelt beside him, now looking extremely vicious pulling his head round roughly looking for a place to take hold.

Though his motor skills were returning, they were doing so slowly, and if he could have done more than move his hands or shrug his shoulders, he would have physically interceded, but having limited mobility and no other options, he took a deep breath and called out, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You what?” Leila asked incredulous.

“I need to go to the bathroom…and like you said…I can’t go by myself.”

“I don’t believe this,” she muttered as she walked to the chair and stood in front of the complaining Renfield exec., “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Well I guess helping me to the bathroom would be a start.”

Leila muttered and cursed the entire way as she hoisted the 6’3” O upward supporting his weight on their trek to the bathroom. He found as they walked that the great majority of function to his legs had returned, but that he was still a little weak. He made a mental note that before he left there, he would find out what was in that incense.

Once they entered the bathroom and Leila propped him up near the toilet, she prepared to leave.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“I thought you might like some privacy.”

“I would, but like you said…I’m completely incapacitated.”

“If you think for one second that I’m going to hold your ‘stuff’ while you relieve yourself…you’re insane.”

“Hmmm,” O sighed, “Well, I guess I could do it myself…but I’m not vouching for my aim in my current condition. You might want to move your rug, but I can’t say that the floor, or toilet seat or shower curtain might be safe.” He said goading her.

Leila narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“When nature calls…” he grinned mischievously.

O was pretty certain he could have handled the “situation” on his own, but he didn’t think Leila would stay off of Salinas in his absence. So, he planned to keep her occupied as much as possible. When they entered the bathroom he found it was rather Spartan in its décor. He was hoping to find something long enough and strong enough to bind her. Once he was able to subdue her he would figure out what to do with Salinas.

He stood with one hand on the wall behind the toilet to balance himself and the other on his hip as Leila unzipped his trousers and reached inside his briefs to release and aim him. It took all his discipline not to burst out laughing when the previously intrepid Leila Romero who lasciviously wriggled on his lap was suddenly hesitant and taciturn.

After standing there for a full twenty seconds directing a full stream into the bowl, she asked, “What were you doing? Saving all this up for a special occasion?”

“You just focus on your aim,” he said dryly.

After another thirty seconds, the seemingly unending stream tapered off to a dribble, then droplets, then nothing.

“Don’t forget the shake,” he said imperiously.

He saw Leila clench her jaw slightly as she administered two quick shakes to the appendage according to his direction.

“All right, I’m done,” he said but Leila remained as she was. “I said I was done,” he repeated. Then he saw the smile creep across her face and the tips of her fangs peeking out from underneath her upper lip and at the same time he felt his whole body go flush as she wrapped her hand as far around him as she could and began performing a slow, firm, rhythmic stroke.

“You might be finished,” She said not hiding her intentions, “but I’m just getting started.”
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~continuing...

"I told you I’m not interested,” He said as his all-too-willing appendage betrayed him.

"I told you I’m not interested,” He said as his all-too-willing appendage betrayed him.

“You shouldn’t be so unfriendly,” she cooed as her hand kept up its seduction.

“I am not here to satisfy your bloodlusts. I am here to catch the hacker who was looking into our system.” He said trying, not too successfully to keep his mind on the mission.

“Oh you know I was just looking for the List,” she said lengthening her stroke as he lengthened.

O’s knees weakened and he really had to brace himself against the wall to avoid falling to the floor. He had already figured out that she was looking for the List. The List was Corporate Security’s itemized register of its most pressing cases. His brother told him that Renegades often try to get access to the list to determine whether they are still operating under the corporate radar. When your name or any other identifying marker made the List, it was time to pull up stakes and go into hiding.

“Omran Azziz Renfield, despite what you say,” Leila interrupted his thoughts, “you know you are very interested in what I have to offer. I wish you would stop pretending so we could move on to more pleasant things.”

O again found himself breathing in time with Leila, falling into synch with her bloodlust. He knew she was right. He was pretending. Probably from the moment she sat him down and challenged him he was interested and the pink panties certainly didn’t hurt. But his training and discipline refused to give in as he stumbled to the floor breaking her grip.

“All right,” she said as she deftly removed her bra, “If that’s the way you want to play, then fine.”

She knelt beside him grabbed his hands and began to knot them tight at the wrist with the bra. O didn’t know exactly what she had planned because right as she was about to cinch the knot, the door bell rang.

“Looks like you have a visitor,” he said.

“That’s not my doorbell,” she replied in a surly tone, “That’s the elevator…but you can’t hear the elevator in here…” She stopped short sitting straight up, her eyes wide in horror, “…Unless the door is open!”

Leila bolted from the bathroom and O struggled up from the floor after her. By the time he reached the door Leila was halfway down the hall, but the elevator doors were already closing and Salinas was on his way down.

“This is all your fault!” Leila wheeled around shouting through the hallway at O. “If you hadn’t come, none of this would have happened!”

Two of Leila’s neighbors, cracked their doors open to see what the commotion was in the hallway.

“Maybe you should come inside,” O smiled from inside the doorway as Leila, clad only in her panties and in the most dignified manner she could muster, hurried back down the hall and into the apartment.

“It’s a good thing you closed the wounds,” O said in as businesslike a tone as he could while tucking his semi-erection back into his pants.

“When did I have time to do that?” Leila said as she scrambled for a pair of jeans and a sweater, “You kept interrupting me.”

Now was O’s turn to look horrified, “Leila, I saw you close the wounds,” O said slowly.

“No, I didn’t” She said testily, “There was some residue where the blood ran down his neck. I licked the blood, not the wounds.”

“This is not good, Leila. It’s near sundown and an open wound is going to draw almost every Orphan in this borough.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She hissed, “We’ve got to go after him.”

“We?” O asked leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, “Salinas is your problem.”

“Really?” Leila asked as she pushed her way into O’s physical space. “So I wonder what would happen if I turned myself in to Investigations and Enforcement? If I told them that at the time I was draining Mr. Salinas, a member of Corporate Security Omran Azziz Renfield, was sitting in an easy chair watching. I bet they’d be curious as to how I happened to get your scent on my hands. I wonder what would happen, then?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

O knew that he had high credibility in the department and that he would most likely be believed whatever the situation, but being waylaid by a Renegade with incense and thereafter requesting that the same Renegade “assist” him with relieving himself sounded entirely too implausible to believe, even for him…and he was there!

“All right,” O said as Leila grabbed her coat and gloves and followed him out the door, “We’ll track him down…but we’ll do it my way.”

                                                                                   -o)0(o-

From the corner of his eye, O could see Leila sitting beside him in the front seat of the standard-issue Renfield SUV scanning the city streets as they drove by.

“He probably took the subway,” She said as she continued her nervous observation of everyone on the street.

“If he took the subway, we’ll know pretty soon. The Orphans will come after him underground.”

When a Revenant got sloppy with its eating habits, Orphans were the likely result. Orphan is the term that Renfields and Revenants used to describe the Paradoxans who were completely drained of their vital fluid and thereafter had the misfortune of not being properly dispatched. These are the ones who seemingly die then return from their apparent deaths more ravenous than the Revenant that took them. To the Renfield and Revenant mind they generally lived like animals being led by their senses and a heightened level of self-preservation.

For the most part Orphans kept to themselves. They were bottom-feeders and in a city like New York there was generally a lot of bottom to feed on. And because they tended to not be as picky about what they ate, they tended to dine at the fringes of dietary acceptability. Granted the instances where Orphans were within range of abducting an average work-a-day Paradoxan for their culinary pleasure were many, but they were well aware that the Powers That Be in the Big Apple had long-standing and close ties with the Renfield organization, and when too many civilians turned up missing or savagely marked a call would be initiated at Gracie Mansion and concluded at the swank penthouse of Renfield International’s CEO, and within twenty-four hours the haunts of the Orphan class would be overrun by what they called, “the Renfield death machine”. Granted there had been a number of uprisings in the past by Orphans who organized believing that they could mobilize against Renfield’s enforcement teams but ultimately they were beaten back, forced down below the city into darkness and frankly, most of them were content to stay there feeding on whoever or whatever had the misfortune to make its way to the untamed underground…that is...unless they were called out and vented blood had a way of shouting “Suppertime!” to Orphans.

No, all blood is not the same at least not to those whose stock in trade is tracking it, trailing it, tasting it. Revenants and Renfields could easily smell and taste a thousand variations in the blood. They could detect subtleties revealing illness, drug dependencies, immunities; and Orphans to a lesser degree could sense those same stirrings of the blood, the delicious intricacies of it, not in the bloodletting of gang bangers, gangsters, vehicular mishaps, catastrophes and disasters, but in the simple “venting” of it…like a fine red wine being uncorked then poured slowly to be sampled by refined connoisseurs.

A vented Paradoxan in the open air had an almost hypnotic effect on the Orphan population. They were drawn to it; And when they came…they came in droves. And if they arrived and found no vented blood at the preordained location, then they indiscriminately vented some for themselves. That was a chaos that even the elite Enforcement teams shuddered to consider.

O could feel Leila’s anxiety. Though she was a Renegade she well knew the stories of what happened when a vented Paradoxan entered the general population. Not quite Orphan, not quite Paradoxan, on their own they were no threat, but their existence had the capacity to precipitate an Orphan swarm and as a result a Paradoxan retaliation that would have all those who were even tangentially related to the “Orphan threat” suffering at the hands of the Paradoxan authority. In the past, Renfields, Revenants and Renegades alike had been crushed under the boot of a fearful and enraged Paradoxan authority after an Orphan swarm. So swift and so utterly overwhelming was the Paradoxan devastation that only the most resourceful and resilient were able to withstand the onslaught.

So even though he wanted to tell Leila that everything would be all right, he knew she would never believe him. He didn’t really believe it himself.

“Stop!” Leila shouted gripping his arm.

She didn’t have to say it. By the time he could feel the pressure of her nails digging into his bicep, he could sense it too. Salinas was close by.

“We’ll stop and take a stroll around the area,” O said as he scoured the curbside for a parking space.

“You should let me out, now!” She protested as she made a move for the door.

“Don’t bother. It’s locked,” He said as he continued to search for a space, “And remember, when I said I would help you, you agreed that we’d do this my way. Now if you don’t want to live up to that agreement, tell me now and I‘ll let you out to pursue Salinas on your own.”

Leila slumped back in her seat resigned to the deal she had made to solicit O’s assistance.

“If you want to do something useful, help find a parking space,” He said rounding the corner.

In the several minutes it took to find a place to park the vehicle the sense of Salinas’ vented blood had become less pronounced, less capable of being tracked by someone as untrained in tracking as Leila, and in his impaired state O was only slightly more effective than his Renegade companion.

“We’ve lost him, haven’t we?” She sighed as they stopped at the dead end of an alley where the trail became cold.

O stood with a furrowed brow scanning the windows and doorways of the blind alley. The minutes they spent parking and hunting for any sign of Salinas on the increasingly crowded street had left them at a disadvantage, and but for the incense that Leila impaired him with, he could have easily discerned the heavy scent of vented blood.

“Now what are we going to do?” She wailed. “We’ll never find him, now!”

O stood for a moment deep in thought then said, “I know how to track him.”

“You do?” Leila said a bit surprised.

“It’ll take some preparation, but yes. I know a way. Let’s hurry back to the truck before the trail goes cold.

-o)0(o- 

The backseat of the SUV wasn’t the most convenient location for attempting an indirect tracking but time was short and sites were limited.

“Okay,” O said clearing his throat, “Now, I’m going to need an indirect feed to pick up the sense of the blood.”

“An indirect feed?” Leila asked warily.

“By accessing Salinas’ blood sense we can track him down almost as if we had a trail of breadcrumbs leading to him.”

“Fantastic!” Leila sighed relieved, “How do we get started?”

“Well first, I have to take a sample of Salinas’ blood…from you.”

“You have to what?”

“Don’t worry it’s very easy. I’ve done this before.”

Of course the three times he had actually done it were in controlled sessions at the academy which was more years ago than he cared to admit. Frankly, the situation had never arisen before where he was required to perform an indirect feed in the field.

“Get comfortable,” he said as he removed his coat relieved that she followed suit without having to be told. “Now,” he said as he took her face in his hands and turned her neck slowly alternately exposing her carotid arteries, “All I need to do is draw a sample of Salinas’ blood from you and I’ll pick up his scent.”

“Wait,” Leila said drawing back, “You’re going to draw blood from me? How?”

“I’m going to latch on and feed from your carotid artery.” O replied matter-of-factly.

“The hell you say!” Leila shouted pushing away from O, “There’s no way I’m allowing a rank amateur to feed on me. You’ll get gripped by a blood lust then bleed me dry!” She cried.

“I’m no amateur,” O huffed indignant, “I’ve done this many times.”

“Please! You couldn’t even hide your sympathetic response to my feeding on Salinas.”

“What are you talking about?” He grumbled.

“You were drawing your breath in every time I drew back on Salinas. Even your heart rate was changing to match mine while I fed. You were only moments from your own fangs dropping. You have to know that if you don’t have enough experience latching on, you’ll cause more problems than you’ll cure.”

“I know what I’m doing,” O sniped as he turned her head again to expose her carotid artery. “Just be still and let me do my job.”

Before Leila could argue another point, O balled his fist through her hair and forced her head back exposing the entire expanse of her neck. He immediately regretted the move the moment he did it. Among Renfields and Revenants the act was unmistakably aggressive and sexually charged. This was a throwback from their more feral times, when their predatory and animalistic instincts guided them. She tried to break his grip but it was nearly impossible. Leila was certainly strong, but the more time he had away from the effect of the incense, the stronger he became. From the position he held her in, it was understood that she could either submit to his obvious demands or he’d snap her neck. The awesome brutality of it both reviled and excited O. But he didn’t have time to psychoanalyze the situation. His fangs had dropped almost simultaneously with his positioning her neck to latch on. At that point it wasn’t a well-thought-out plan that propelled him into action. It was nothing more than pure blood lust.

A shudder swept through O’s entire body as his newly-sprung fangs pierced Leila’s carotid artery and he drew back for the first time. His head swam. It was nothing like he remembered. At the Academy the blood drawn from the training subjects tasted perfunctory, bland...metallic, but the blood he drew back from Leila was a sensory smorgasbord…mild yet robust, earthy yet ethereal, melodic and profound in its complexity. He could barely hear her excited gasps over his own deep moans of pleasure.

“Not too much…not too much,” she sighed and moaned as he took the second draw, his left hand now roaming freely over her breasts as his right continued to hold her neck firmly in place. Leila was shamelessly stroking him through his trousers encouraging him toward a predatory bent. O forgot all about missions, Salinas, Renfield International or duties. All he could focus on was Leila’s blood sense and the hard, budding nipples that sprouted beneath his fingers from her firm yet pliant breasts. If he had his way, the things he would do to Ms. Renegade Leila Romero bordered on the obscene. He imagined making her pay dearly for her insolence and for ambushing him. And he knew that for every lascivious and indecent act he proffered, she would gladly beg him to do it.

“Omran…Omran, wait!” She raised her voice, “We have to stop. It’s getting late. We’ve got to go after Salinas.”

His first inclination was to ignore her, to continue to feed until she became compliant and bent to his will, then he was instantly ashamed of the thought and at his lack of discipline and reluctantly withdrew.

“Oh my…” Leila sighed as she fell back against the seat, “You really do have great technique.”

“Thank you?” O replied sarcastically, still a little irked from the abrupt ending to the engagement.

“Oh don’t be miffed,” Leila laughed as she pulled close to him, “Once we nab Salinas, there’ll be more than enough time to finish what we started.”

“I wasn’t starting anything. I was just initiating an indirect feed in the field…the way I was trained to.”

“So I guess the squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples were all part of the protocol?”

“I’m authorized to take whatever actions are necessary to accomplish the ultimate goal of the mission. Obviously stroking your breasts and pinching your nipples increased your blood flow such that we were able to quickly achieve an indirect feed.” O said in his practiced matter-of-fact tone.

“All right, Company Man,” Leila smirked, “I know you really hate this and it’s such an imposition, but could you please at least finish the job,” she said tipping her neck to show the still opened piercings. O could barely retain his composure at the sight of the wounds he had recently inflicted.

“I was about to do that when you moved away,” he defended.

“Yeah, right…” she said as he cupped her face in one hand then passed his tongue slowly over the two indentations he had created in her neck.

“Thank you,” she said with a coquettish grin. “Now,” she said as she threw her coat back on and prepared to step out of the vehicle, “Can you sense Salinas?”

O stepped out of the back of the SUV, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His eyes flew open and he peered down the darkening alleyway. “This way,” he said.

-o)0(o- 

O and Leila entered the same alley they originally found to be a dead end.

“We’ve already checked this one,” she wailed, “The feed didn’t work.”

“Shhhhhhh,” Omran said as he stood near the back wall of the alley. To anyone else it would have looked like a run-of-the-mill wall, but to the trained senses of a Renfield Enforcement officer, the hidden doorway stood out as if it were bordered in flashing neon. Granted it couldn’t be seen very well by the naked eye. In fact to the naked eye of a Paradoxan, it was invisible, but the trail that Salinas’ vented blood left on the air was like a beacon to him. O was more than just a little disconcerted that he was unable to detect it the first time…even impaired. It was clear that the Orphans were becoming more sophisticated about concealing themselves. He pressed against the hidden opening and after a moment of exertion it gave way. The dank smell of the underground rose up around them as a stairway leading downward stretched before them into the darkness.

“So, do you think Salinas knew about this hidden doorway?” Leila asked anxiously, already knowing the answer.

“Even if he happened to stumbled upon it, which I seriously doubt, there’s no way he could have opened the door…without help.“

“They’ve got him already. Don’t they?” She asked trying hard to keep her obviously mounting tension from seeping into her voice.

“That appears to be the case.”

“Can you call in for back-up or whatever it is that you Corporate guys do?”

“They’re already beginning to congregate.”

“What should we do? Should we warn the Family?” Leila asked.

“No, not yet,” O replied looking closely at the opening of the doorway, before walking out examining the exterior walls and ground then returning to his spot on the top step, “Don’t you think it’s strange that there’s not one drop of blood anywhere? There was none in the alleyway, there’s none on the door and though I can’t see it, I know I can’t smell any on the stairs.”

“Those are some extremely disciplined Orphans…not the regular bottom-feeders,” Leila said, her expression becoming more grim.

“Priestley’s lieutenants. They’re taking him to Priestley,” O said, flatly.

“Imagine the kind of swarm an Orphan psycho like Priestley could whip up with some Renfield-vented blood? It’s going to be chaos…and it’s all my fault. They‘re going to send me to the Lathe.” She moaned, her knees buckling in terror.

“C’mon Leila, snap out of it; This is serious! We’ve got to get Salinas back…now!”

O grabbed her by the arm and the two of them rushed headlong toward the bowels of the city, making their way to the Orphan Underground.

-o)0(o- 

Morris Priestley sat listening to the last strains of Berlioz‘s Damnation of Faust. The Hell Fall particularly captivated him and for some reason comforted him as he felt the setting of the sun. Even underground his internal clock remained intact and he could sense the movement of Helios’s chariot across the sky. He smiled to himself as he recalled the Greek myths he read almost religiously as a boy and wondered what type of creatures the gods really were. It seemed to him that human beings when confronted with other humanoid types that wielded powers beyond their understanding were either characterized as gods or monsters. As far as he could fathom, it appeared that those who wielded just enough power to injure individuals without consequences, those were considered monsters. However those who had the power to destroy nations without fear of reprisal, those were the ones who had the honor of being categorized as gods. He had to admit that there was a time when he too would have laughed at the idea of someone insisting on the existence of goblins, werewolves, monsters, creatures of the night. But over the past fifty years he’d learned.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” he chuckled.

“Did you say something, sir?” The petite woman who busied herself massaging his feet asked from under long, dark lashes.

He knew she didn’t dare look him in the eye. It was a sign of utmost disrespect for one so new to the kinship to make eye contact with an elder of his stature. After all it was his rule and he was duty bound to enforce it, though he would very much have liked to have seen her eyes, again.

The last time he saw her eyes they were open, unblinking, staring at the crescent moon…beautiful brown-black irises peering upward into the inky, dark unknown. She might have been a dancer or a student, maybe someone’s young mother. He didn’t bother to look in the satchel she was carrying. There was nothing of value in it for him and who she had been really didn’t matter, either. He left her body in an alleyway behind a dumpster, not too far away from the street he lured her from. He recalled smoothing her hair into place and taking one last look at her before vaulting off into the predawn sky. He didn’t look back again. He didn’t have to. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she came looking for him. If she was resourceful enough, lucky enough she’d find her way to the underground…to him, to the one who bred her…in the same way that he was drawn to the one who bred him.

The incident remained fresh in his memory, like the morning dew in Central Park, the section he liked to sit in just before dawn on his way home from work. When he told a few of his co-workers at the hotel that he used to sit in the park sometimes to watch the sun rise, they warned him about it telling him how unsafe it could be. But it was never unsafe for Morris Priestley. And it wasn’t because he had any proficiency with firearms and even if he did, it wouldn’t have helped because he didn’t carry any. It wasn’t that he held the key to any ancient self-defense techniques. At five foot nine, small through the shoulders and slight, Morris Priestley would have appeared the quintessential victim…if anyone cared to harm him…which they didn’t. The fact is that Morris was so nondescript as to be incapable of offending. Beyond being five foot nine, there wasn’t much of anything about him that could be set in stone. When asked what color his eyes were three different people might offer three different answers.

“Green,” one might say.

“No…brown” another would say.

“I’m sure they’re some shade of blue,” a third might say.

That was the way of Morris’ life. Neither fat nor thin, neither short nor tall, neither dark nor fair either in complexion or hair. He was like a specter, a person on the edge of one’s consciousness. He was a faded memory the moment he made an acquaintance. It was as if he walked through life wearing a cloak of shadows.

However, as nondescript as Morris was himself, he was extremely attuned to the characteristics of others. He remembered almost every detail of the majority of those who walked through the doors of the hotel. He knew the regulars and quickly committed any newcomers to memory. He could tell if someone had come to get away for a couple of days, whether they were on business or enjoying an afternoon tryst. He could pretty much predict the needs of everyone that passed by the counter, something which was very helpful in a service industry. Of course this doesn’t mean that he was a genie in a bottle. Though he couldn’t necessarily satisfy their every need, he was keen in assessing them and prompt with relief when he could provide it. And it was acting upon that keen sense of perception on a night that began like any other night that resulted in his life being irrevocably altered.

It was just four o’clock am when he approached his favorite spot at the park. It wasn’t far off the thoroughfare and was as much lit as is was dark. The ambivalence of the location suited him. He sat, as he usually did watching the last few stragglers of the hip crowd rushing off to get a few hours of sleep before their days began in earnest and the quiet solitude of the park’s pastoral setting. The sound of a muffled rustling took his attention away from his usual meditations. Although he had never had any trouble in the park, he had also maintained the common sense to not court danger, either. So when even from his respectable distance of twenty feet he could hear the garbled moans rising from the shrubbery, Morris rose quickly and headed to the most direct route back toward the street, but as he turned something stopped him.

“Madame Budkha?” He called out toward the sound…actually toward the scent.

Even from the distance of nearly twenty feet he recognized the cologne. It had drifted on the breeze toward him causing him to stop in his tracks and travel back toward it. The scent was distinctive, unique and worn by only one person that he knew of…Madame Paloma Budkha.

“Madame Budkha,” he called out again as he took a step toward the hedge, “Are you all right?”

He usually would not have cared one way or the other, but Madame Budkha was a frequent visitor at the hotel and she had always been very polite to him. During one of her many stays there she mentioned that she was a native of somewhere in Eastern Europe…Lithuania he recalled her saying, but that she made her home in the Hamptons. She told him that every now and then she would travel to the city just to take in a bit of the atmosphere. She often traveled with a companion, a younger gentleman from India (Mahesh is what he heard her call him), who seemed more lover and companion than the valet he presented himself as. So he really wasn’t surprised that in response to his inquiry, Mahesh’s handsome and placid face appeared over the top of the hedge. Somehow the one-inch fangs that protruded from below his upper lip didn’t faze Priestley in the least. Mahesh’s nature was clear to him. He was a follower. He wouldn’t hurt him…at least not without being ordered to do so.

“Well, hmmm,” Madame Budkha’s voice lilted as she rose from behind the hedge. Somehow the fangs on her seemed natural, a genuine part of her character not at all frightening or out of place. The third person behind the hedge never moved except for what appeared to be an involuntary spasming of the left leg…the only part of the body Priestley could see as it lay in repose.

“Mr. Priestley,” Madame Budkha smiled as she stepped out from behind the hedge, “I didn’t quite expect to see you here this morning.”

“Iris has the flu. I am taking her shift for the next few days.”

“How fortunate for Iris to have such a good friend.” Madame Budkha said as she continued on her approach…almost as if she were gliding toward him.

“Not friends. I was scheduled by the Manager.”

As Madame Budkha spoke, Priestley could just see out of the corner of his eye Mahesh’s chiseled form effortlessly flipping the body from behind the hedge over his shoulder and disappearing into the early morning darkness.

“You don’t much like living here, do you?” Madame Budkha said as she finally arrived in front of him.

He felt fixed to the spot as she gazed at him with those sleepy blue-green eyes that danced against her dark lashes and pale skin. Her hands and lips were cold as she captured his face then stood on her toes to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“I - I like it, fine.” He said as she stepped back assessing him from head to toe.

After a moment she asked, “If you were gone; If something happened to you where you’d disappear without a trace, who would miss you?”

Morris puzzled for a moment but this was not a new question. He had often considered it himself. His parents never quite understood him. During his youth they walked around carefully on the fringes of nervousness not quite certain as to who he was or what he would do. With books on his shelves ranging from ballet to modern weaponry (for him modern was WWII) to physics they had no idea what was going on in his mind and never sought to find out. He remembered relieved expressions on their faces the day in 1948 when he turned twenty-one and informed them that he was moving to New York City. The few times that he came home over the past ten years they seemed uncomfortable in his presence and not at all chagrined to see him leave. No. His parents would not miss him, nor would the hundreds of guests that walked through the doors of the hotel whom he had served. There were other employees that knew him, respected his work, but miss him? Not likely.

“No,” He said, “No one immediately comes to mind.”

“I didn’t think so.” She smiled.

She moved at a dizzying speed and her grip was like steel as she forced him down onto the ground, her fangs piercing the flesh shielding his carotid artery. He couldn’t speak as she drew back a deep breath and a several ounces of his blood along with it. He tried to struggle against her but to no avail. She was in complete command. It was if his will had evaporated with her touch. He lay nearly paralyzed as she rose from his neck then winked at him.

“My goodness,” she smiled, “You don’t even drink. I bet you’re one of the only men in the city who can make that claim!”

“Please…” He managed to gasp, “I-I would never hurt you…”

“As if you could,” she chuckled, “You, your kind…you are food. You are drink. You are chattel. You are more ‘thing’ than person, and for the most part you lack even the most basic spirituality for life beyond this plane…this dreck you call an existence.”

“Dreck,” Another voice, not that of Madame Budkha’s lover which he knew well, entered the conversation beyond Priestley’s field of vision drawing Madame Budkha’s gaze upward.

“Well dreck or not it seems to suit you just fine.” the voice continued approaching.

Morris could just see from the angle he was positioned in what looked to be the bottom of a long black gown.

“What are you doing here without an escort, Paloma. You know you’re not permitted out without an escort!” the voice insisted.

“Well Mahesh is around here…somewhere,” Madame Budkha wheedled in that lilting voice he had come to recognize.

“Well if Mahesh is gone, then who is that?” The voice asked, moving around Madame Buddha and toward Morris.

“What is this? What have you done?” The other woman hissed as she dropped down on her knees beside him. He was a little surprised (at that time) that the person was a negro female. She leaned in close and looked into his eyes. She took off the black gloves she was wearing and took his pulse.

Morris was struck at that moment at how warm her hands were and how in the past several years he had had no one to touch him. It was almost worth the savaging by Madame Budkha to be touched and looked at with concern, to be acknowledged.

“You’re lucky, Paloma” The woman said, “He’ll be all right.”

“Well so nice for him,” Madame Budkha replied in an unconcerned tone.

“You need to come close this wound, now.” The woman said firmly.

“Look Ramona,” Madame Budkha replied icily, “You may run Mahesh, and you may run Renfield Investigations and Enforcement but you don’t run me.”

“This isn’t about some power play, Paloma. You’ve vented this man. You need to close him.” The woman whom he now understood was named Ramona replied in a measured yet clipped manner.

“And what if I don’t?” Madame Budkha asked, “What will you do…place me on house arrest…again?”

“This is serious. You know what could happen.”

“And I’m supposed to care?” Paloma Budkha laughed as she began to walk away, “If you want him closed so badly, do it yourself.”

“You know I can’t do it. I didn’t make the wound.” Ramona shouted after the retreating Budkha.

“Well…I guess you’ll just have to kill him, then.” Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the darkness.

“Paloma! You’re under house arrest! Do you hear me?!” Ramona shouted off after her.

For a moment Ramona remained looking off into the darkened sky, her fingers still pressed against his carotid artery. She looked down at him and bit her lip, then asked,

 “Can you stand?”

Morris nodded rising unsteadily to a sitting position then rolled up onto his knees. His head was swimming and his eyes were unfocused. He thought he could hear music but it seemed very far way.

“That’s good enough,” She said touching his arm to halt his progress. He rested on his hands and knees while she began rifling through his pockets. She pulled out his wallet and flipped through until she located his ID.

“Your name is Morris Priestley?”

Morris nodded in the affirmative.

“Is this your proper address?”

He nodded again.

“Look Morris Priestley, something has happened to you this evening that should never have happened. You’ve been vented and I have to either close the wound or kill you. Do you understand?”

“But, I haven’t done anything,” He answered confused, his head still swimming.

“I know.” She sighed. “That’s why I’m going to try to help you, but you have to do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that?”

Morris nodded quickly then gasped as she gripped him by the arm and vaulted upward leaving behind the pull of gravity, Central Park and the life he once knew.

 -o)0(o- 

When Morris’ eyes opened he was laying on a plush deep red sofa. Since he neither owned anything plush nor deep red, he knew immediately that he was not in his own apartment.

Was it a dream? Am I still dreaming? He asked himself as he viewed what he could see of the room without moving from where he lay. From his perspective he appeared to be laying in what looked to be a small efficiency apartment. He heard the distinctive sound of silver tinging against porcelain and his attention was drawn toward it. At the counter of a galley kitchen no more than two yards away the woman he now knew to be named Ramona was leaning against the sink preparing a cup of coffee. She never turned to acknowledge him, but he knew she was watching him from the corner of her eye. She appeared more relaxed than he recalled the night before now wearing a gold kimono-like blouse over a pair of casual black trousers. Her thick black hair was braided and tied at the nape of her neck. What he thought was a black gown the night before was actually a long trench coat in an inky dark purple which was now hung on a hook on the front door. The furniture was expensive and tasteful and completely out of place in the apartment unit whose description could be summed up with the word “ratty”.

“How are you feeling?” She asked while maintaining her position near the sink.

“I’ve felt better, but I’ve certainly felt worse.” He answered rising to his elbows. He was getting ready to ask if this was where she lived but after a quick inspection, he realized that it couldn’t be. She may have purchased the furniture, but it was obvious…at least to him that she didn’t live in this place.

“You’ve been asleep for quite a while. That’s good. You needed to rest, and you’ll need to eat something.” She said.

“I’m not hungry,” He replied as he rose to sitting and continued to review his surroundings.

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re hungry or not. Because of what’s happened, you have to eat solid food. It’s important.”

“Of course,” he answered not really understanding what she meant by it but realizing that she expected compliance regardless, “So” he asked after a long pause, “Do I get to know what is going to happen to me?”

“Are you sure you really want to know? It can be overwhelming to some. And if we're successful with what we‘re attempting, you won't remember any of this, anyway. It will all seem like a bad dream.”

“Well, even if I don’t need to know everything, maybe I could ask you questions about some things? Then if the answers got too heavy for me, we could quit.”

“That sounds fair,” She said then crossed the small room to sit down beside him, “What do you need to know?”

A thousand questions swirled in his mind some he wanted the answers to, some he was afraid to know the answers to but the first thing he asked was the thing he needed to know, “Are you monsters?”

-o)0(o-

Ramona burst out laughing. “Are we monsters? It would definitely take a Parodoxan to ask a question like that…a naïve insult to a culture as ancient and complex as any of those that evolved from the Abyssian home worlds.”

“I don’t understand,” Morris stammered.

“I had been told that Paradoxans could be exasperating…which is why I have attempted to limited my contact with your people as much as possible. But I apologize for the outburst, I know you meant no offense. You’re curious and rightly so. However in response to your question, no. I would like to think that we are not monsters,” She replied coolly.

“But you are vampires, right?” He asked.

Ramona bit her lip “No…” she ground out slowly, “We are not vampires and I would thank you not to use that word. To some that word, that epithet could only have been worse if you had added an ethnic slur to it. In the right company it could get you killed or make you wish that you had been.”

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t know!” The astonished Priestley replied. “I didn’t mean to offend. Is there a proper name I should use?”

“They are called Revenants.”

“They? Aren’t you one? A Revenant?”

“No. I am not one of them.”

“But you’re not human either are you? I mean no human can do what you did to get us here.”

“No, not human.”

“So what…what are you?” He stammered.

A mischievous smile flitted across her face as she quoted Mark 5:9: “And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered, saying, Our name is Legion: for we are many. …”

“Excuse me?” Morris Priestly replied again with an expression of confusion.

“It was joke,“ she said, “I guess a pretty bad one. Sorry. We prefer to be called…Renfield."

~continuing...

                                                                                        'width' is a duplicate attribute name. Line 1, position 37.

“Renfield…Like in the book?”

“Yes, Renfield, but not like in the book. We’re not Paradoxan and we’re not crazy...at least not all of us.”

“But you worship vamp…I mean Revenants, right?”

“We don’t worship Revenants. We merely assist them.”

“Assist them how?”

“In whichever ways they need assistance,” She replied in a way that was vaguely nefarious then laughed and winked, “Basic things, property acquisitions, legal work, grocery shopping…”

“You wouldn’t have anything to do with the corporation, Renfield International?”

Ramona smiled, “We are Renfield International.”

“Incredible!” Morris gasped, “So then…are you the head of the Renfields?”

Ramona doubled over in peals of laughter, “What would give you the idea that I was the head of Renfield? I couldn‘t possibly look THAT old!” She continued to laugh for several more seconds and only stopped when she observed that Morris was blushing crimson.

“No. I am not the head of Renfield” She smiled, “Far from it. But I guess if we were a sovereign nation, which we are to some degree, I would be akin to the director of central intelligence, head of the investigations bureau and the secretary of defense...combined. But I do not run Renfield. That job belongs to others.”

Morris appeared deep in thought for a moment then asked, “Are there many people like me…who have this…problem?”

“With a few policy changes we’ve been able to limit these incidents in recent years. Of course we have a few diehards in the Revenant class who believe that the rules do not apply to them,” she frowned, “but since the inception of more rigid in-house standards, little by little we are tightening the reigns and getting these recalcitrants, like your Madame Budka under control.”

The key turned in the front door lock and by the time Morris registered the fact, Ramona had already sped by in what could only be described as a blur and was at the door reaching for the doorknob. A male nearly a head taller than Ramona entered the apartment and without uttering a word took her in his arms and kissed her as if he was attempting to inhale her, to consume her. His hands moved so swiftly that her blouse was floating toward her feet by the time the door was closed. She however was no less enthusiastic as his coat and shirt quickly found their way to the floor as well. Morris watched as the two of them melted together in an erotic swirl of her chocolate and his caramel almost liquid in the way their bodies fused. He watched with interest for a moment feeling a needling bitterness rising. Of course he felt no ownership of Ramona nor any desire for the male who entered, but he coveted their togetherness, their “belonging.” He closed his eyes for a moment remembering the warmth of Ramona’s touch and the concern in her eyes as he lay more dead than alive on the dewy grass of Central Park. In that moment he had experienced more “human” contact than he had experienced in the ten years that preceded it. He had consistently told himself that all the drama of interpersonal relationships and intimacy was for those who weren’t whole in themselves, who failed to recognize the futility of it all, but at that moment for the first time in years he was consumed by his aloneness.

“Well then Mona,” the man smirked as he broke the embrace and strolled toward where Morris sat, “I had no idea you had something quite so…exotic in mind for this afternoon. I have to admit I would have expected you to choose maybe Graham for this sort of scenario but who am I to judge?”

“I’m sorry Morris,” Ramona blushed while simultaneously shielding her breasts and scrambling for her blouse, “I forgot. I just forgot you were here.”

“It’s all right,” he said without moving, without changing his expression..

The man who had moved closer in the meantime was in a word, “impressive.” Ramona would not be considered a small woman by anyone’s standards, and this man literally dwarfed her with his massive shoulders, powerful arms and a body that could have been carved from marble. His eyes were dark and piercing. His lips were full but not in the almost feminine sensibility he saw in Madame Budkha’s valet, Mahesh. And the two or so days’s growth of facial hair made him appear all the more exotic. There was no question in Morris’ mind that he was probably of Mediterranean or Middle Eastern descent and he moved with the same catlike precision that Morris observed with Ramona, Mahesh and even Madame Budkha herself.

“Bil, this is Morris Priestley,” Ramona said arranging her clothes while indicating toward Morris.

“Morris, this is my friend Nabil.”

Morris gave a polite wave in Nabil’s direction and Nabil acknowledged Morris but his eyes didn’t appear welcoming.

“Mona, do you mind telling me what Mr. Morris Priestley is doing here? And where your suitcase is?”

“Honey--” she began but didn’t get any farther.

“--Mona do not ‘Honey--’ me! We’ve been planning this for months and now here you come again with yet another excuse for breaking an engagement!”

“I’ll pick my bag up on the way. I have to stop by the office anyhow. I have to file a report. Paloma’s violated the terms of the Lex Corax.”

“Paloma has been violating the terms of the Lex Corax since before you were born. I don’t understand why you think you’re the one that’s going to finally keep her in line.”

“I think that because it’s my job to keep her in line…and the rest of the Revenants and Orphans, besides.”

“And so now you’ve appointed yourself the duty of handling the Orphan problem, too?”

“It’s a security issue. That’s my job.”

“”How convenient,” Bil replied with an edge to his voice.

“You know as well as I do that the chief threat to the security of both Renfields and Revenants is the unchecked rise in the Orphan population. You used to understand that.”

“I’ve broadened my understanding as of late.”

“Orphans are bottom feeders. They lack both motivation and discipline…present company excepted. No offense”

“None taken.”

Even though he had only just met him, it was clear to Morris that Nabil was very offended and that Ramona was either oblivious or simply didn’t care.

“At any rate this is important,” She continued.

“I know. It’s always important.” he grumbled as he moved past her and opened a door that Morris originally thought was a closet, but which led to a small bedroom.

From where he sat, Morris could see that the room was almost entirely occupied by two pieces of furniture, a mirrored bureau and larger than king-sized bed. How they got the bed in there he couldn’t venture a guess but it, like everything else in the apartment looked so much more opulent than the shabby apartment that housed them that it was almost comical. Morris looked straight through into the bedroom as Ramona stood in the doorway while she and Nabil argued in a language Morris didn’t understand. Nabil stripped off his clothes in a huff as the tone of his voice conveyed his displeasure. Morris was amazed. As impressive as Nabil was half dressed he was twice so undressed completely. Morris had a fleeting erotic image of what Bil and Ramona might look like tangled together in the sheets on that over-sized king bed sighing and moaning, their bodies clashing and melding. However at that moment such a scenario was not to be as Nabil shouted an expletive then ended the exchange by abruptly slamming what Morris presumed was the bathroom door since he heard the sound of running water shortly thereafter.

Ramona sighed exasperated gazing briefly at her watch and moved toward the front door saying, “I need to check in at my office then I’ll bring back something for you to eat. It’s been too long since you’ve had had solid food. Stay here with Bil and wait for me. We‘ll get started as soon as I get back.”

With that she swept past him literally like the wind leaving him standing in the middle of the floor as much in the dark regarding his situation as he was when he first awoke.

It only took ten minutes for Morris to look through the refrigerator and cupboards and to peruse nearly every inch of the small living area of the unit. He found that there were no windows and gathered that there were neighbors, at least there were upstairs. He finally retook his spot on the sofa and for the next several minutes wondered whether he should just take the opportunity to leave the apartment and try to find his way back home. But before his decision was made the door to the bedroom swung open and Nabil walked out wearing a white turtleneck shirt and a pair of black trousers. He moved past Morris and pulled on a black leather jacket then with an intense stare asked, “Did she explain everything to you?”

“Well, I guess she started explaining everything she thought I should know.” Morris replied.

“So you know what we are?”

“I guess.” Morris answered.

“And you know what you’ll become, then if you don‘t follow her directions to the letter?”

“Well…we hadn’t quite got to that point in our discussion.”

“Hmmm…” Nabil said seemingly deep in thought. Then a devious smile slowly crept across his face. “You say you don’t know what you’ll become?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Well, do you want to know …exactly?”

Morris nodded quickly in the affirmative.

“Get your jacket. Let’s go.”

“But what about Ramona?”

“We’ll be back before she knows we’re gone.”

It all seemed dreamlike - both nightmarish and absurd at the same time. Morris had two choices, to stay or to go, and since staying apparently wasn’t going to provide him any more information, he did as he was told, grabbed his jacket and followed Nabil out.

-o)0(o- 

Morris had no idea that the apartment he had spent the previous night in was underground until they stepped onto the freight elevator leading them up to the street level. As they stepped off onto the sidewalk and entered the flow of foot traffic even the dull rays of the setting sun seemed bright and garish, and all of the smells that encircled him were overly sweet or exceedingly pungent.

“It’ll take a moment before you’re acclimated,” Bil said with a sidelong glance as Morris trailed him down the street in a part of town he was unfamiliar with. He thought he would be lost in the shuffle, left behind in the wake of the long fluid strides of the enigmatic man whom he had just met. But oddly he was able to keep up, matching the gait of his guide as they glided in an almost synchronous rhythm through the increasingly heavy crowd. Their conversation was polite and general as they walked together into uptown. Morocco, Algeria, maybe Tunisia Morris mused to himself as he tried unsuccessfully to place the accent. Coarse looping curls brushed the collar of Nabil’s jacket and in the coming nightfall nearly blended in with the garment’s ebony hue.

Nabil explained about the Renfield family, how their origins were actually “otherworldly” and how most of what Parodoxans perceived as fantasy and horror actually had roots in reality. The conversation was so thoroughly engrossing that they had taken a train and then a ferry and little less than an hour after leaving the apartment were walking past rows of warehouses at the waterfront. They stopped at a nondescript brick building with dark industrial windows and a drab steel door. After turning several locks they stepped into a narrow corridor which led directly into a freight elevator. After taking the elevator up several floors they stopped then stepped out onto a wide grey concrete hallway. The double doors at the end of the hallway were the only doors off the corridor and obviously their destination. After unlocking another series of locks Nabil pushed the doors open and entered with Morris behind him.

Morris’ jaw dropped when he crossed the threshold into the warehouse loft apartment. It was enormous and as opulent as the underground apartment was shabby. Enormous Persian rugs covered the marble floors and were offset by alternating sheer and heavy curtains hanging in panels that were suspended on chained rods from the 20 foot ceilings and spaced to suggest different living areas. The heavy curtains, which took the place of walls were adorned as such and framed paintings and photographs were hung artfully. In the far corners of the rooms, such that he could see them, there was an abundance of photography equipment suggesting that the space was as much studio as it was home.

As Nabil excused himself and slipped off into an area that Morris presumed was the bedroom, Morris toured the loft. It was a huge space - much too large for one person, but it seemed that Nabil filled it well. Morris was drawn to a large exposed brick wall that was nearly ceiling to floor covered with artwork. As he began to peruse the gallery he noticed that the majority of the works were photographs. He was curious as to how some of them were done with strange purple skies and unfamiliar architectural types, but those lost all fascination when he observed the next grouping. The pictures looked to be very formalized with Ramona and several other officer in uniform at a party. Then came a more casual grouping with several more pictures including the same cadre of individuals. Ramona was prominently figured in many of them and Paloma Budkha’s valet Mahesh as well. There was a blonde woman, pretty, athletic-looking, as big as Ramona but taller - he could tell from the photos of them together. There was an Asian man who was almost always in the presence of a woman who may have been of Latin descent. He couldn’t be certain. There was also another male, an attractive blonde who appeared in several photographs with both Nabil and Ramona as well as with the others. In the next grouping he immediately recognized Ramona, but not dressed in the very close almost manly attire he observed her wearing in the first sets of pictures. Here she was posed nearly nude with translucent fabric barely covering her unmentionables as she lay on her back in the shadow of a seemingly nude man posed romantically above her, but the man was not Nabil. It was Paloma Budkha’s comely valet, Mahesh. There were several photographs in the grouping which included Ramona in highly suggestive yet artfully modest poses with several of the individuals seen in the prior set of pictures. The groupings continued displaying photographs with unique cityscapes, desolate landscape vistas and intimate character portraits.

The loft was like a museum. He could literally have spent a week there without becoming bored.

“Let’s go,” He heard Nabil say as he emerged from his private area behind the curtain tucking a package into his inside jacket pocket.

He was curious about what it was that brought them all they way across the bridge but didn’t ask because it would have been rude.

As they walked back down the sidewalk towards the ferry, Nabil mused, “Well, you’ve certainly changed my weekend plans Morris, but maybe there is a way to salvage them.

Nabil remained in good spirits on the ferry and on the train. When they ascended the stairway from the A-train they took a quick pace down a path toward the waterfront. Almost without slowing down they ducked into a alleyway. If Morris had been traveling alone, he would never have ventured anywhere that looked quite so narrow and foreboding. But Nabil seemed completely at ease so Morris followed suit with an equal lack of concern..

Right before they reached the end of the alley where it opened onto the next street, a man at a newsstand was clearing away his work area for the day. Nabil motioned for Morris to hold back while he approached the vendor. Morris listened as the vendor spoke to Nabil in hushed tones but avoided direct eye contact. After several moments of negotiating, Nabil transferred the package he had hurriedly stuffed into his interior jacket pocket into the hands of the man who quickly slid a small bag across the counter to Nabil who slipped the bag into his pocket then returned to where Morris was waiting.

“One more stop.“ he said as he headed back down the alley.

“So what was that?” Morris asked.

“Something that will help to get this derailed weekend back on track.“

By the time they reached what Morris gathered was their final destination nightfall was already upon them . It was a plain-looking building with an impressively large door with a man dressed in a doorman‘s uniform standing at attention nearby. As they approached, even from several yards away the boss nova rhythms could be heard floating out from within.

The doorman, like the newspaper vendor barely made eye contact then opened the door and allowed them entry. The door closed behind them and they walked a short distance in to the bar. One of the bartenders silently acknowledged them with a nod of the head. The two continued into the darkness toward the sound of the music as Morris’ eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He determined quickly that he was being led a few steps down into a very lively dance club. In the middle of the room, the dancers moved gracefully and aggressively to the Latin rhythms --all of them with that same precision of movement he’d come to recognize as Revenants and Renfields. As he watched he wished that he had had the time to stop and have a drink in this very unique night spot, but his guide was on a mission and moved swiftly past the dance floor to a booth at the back of the club where they sat in silence…waiting..

A young woman dressed in a waitresses uniform glided toward the table.

“We should order,“ Nabil said as he motioned to her. The young woman stood for a moment making eyes at Nabil, then she nodded, winked then walked away but moments later returned with two drinks..

Morris whispered, “She just gave us someone else’s drinks.“.

“No. This is our order..”

“But you didn’t say anything.” Morris said incredulous.

“She’s telepathic…a job requirement for all wait staff, here. It’s one of the reasons service here has been ranked first in the empire for the past fifty years.”

“So what did you order?” Morris asked looking toward the exotic looking cocktail the waitress sat in front of Nabil.

“You’ve never heard of it. It’s a house special.”

“And what did I order?”

“What you were thinking about…a gin and tonic.”

“And you’re telepathic, too?”

“No. I’m not telepathic. She told me what you had in mind…so to speak.

Before he could start in on Nabil regarding the existence of telepathy, a jovial voice broke into the conversation.

“What’re you doing in this neck of the woods?”

Before Morris could turn to see where the voice had come from, a tall blonde was standing next to the table. The dark silk shirt and close-fitting pants were pro forma for the occasion and he wore them both well. Morris recognized him from the photographs in Nabil’s apartment. Even in the dim light Morris could see that the static images were far from doing him any justice. This man was not simply attractive. With thick blonde waves of hair, hazel green eyes and a smile that spelled mischief, he was extraordinarily beautiful. On the surface he was the polar opposite of Nabil…smiling, gregarious, but it was unmistakable that the same intensity was there, only focused differently.

“Ahhhh, so, the prodigal son returns,” The blonde said as Nabil rose to greet him.

“But only for a minute.”

“Don’t tell me. You need a favor, right?” The blonde asked as the two men shook hands.

“Why do you assume I want something, Graham?” Nabil asked.

“Because you never come around anymore unless you do.”

There was an awkward silence before the blonde piped up, “So, what kind of favor would you be proposing this time?”

“The kind of favor this can buy.” he answered as he handed the package he retrieved from the newsstand over to their blonde host who took the package and gave it a thorough inspection, then said, “Okay, let’s talk.“

They followed the blonde, whose name he presumed was Graham , as he walked toward another booth much more secluded at the back of the club where he emptied the bag of vials onto the table.

“Hmmm…twelve. This isn’t looking like a small favor.” Graham said as he began to peer at each vial individually under a small strange-looking light. From Morris’ perspective the light gave the honey-colored liquid a purple-green cast, and looked much like something from a science fiction novel.

“I guess you could call it a large, small favor.” Nabil said as he slid in beside Graham.

“Eight thirty-two is hard to come by this time of year…a rare commodity especially with the high holy days upon us.”

“I’ve heard that you’ve nearly exhausted the supply sanctioned to you by the Order. You’ll never make it through the holy weeks…Consanguinei Duval.

“Well I had no idea I was being spied on. Obviously, you can never be too careful these days.”

“Twelve vials would easily take you through the holidays and save you from having to account for the shortfall.”

“This is very high quality,“ Graham said as he shut off the light signaling the completion of his inspection, “You should set me up with your connection.”.

“Not likely,” Nabil smiled, “Which is why you should appreciate all the trouble I’ve gone through to get it.”

Graham casually nodded toward Morris without making eye contact, “What’s this?”

“Just another one of Ramona’s projects,” Nabil answered without much fanfare, “This is Morris. Morris…Graham.”

When Morris shook Graham’s hand he could feel the virtually electrical surge of sexual energy. Clearly this was a man who had his way with everyone. Morris could understand why Nabil had envisioned this man as a possible third to he and Ramona’s illicit afternoon activities. Morris caught Graham’s mischievous grin acknowledging the momentary effect he had had on him, before they both turned their attention back to Nabil.

“If this is something that’s going to put me in a fix between you and Ramona…even twelve vials of 8:32 won’t be enough. I’d rather not get involved. The last time wasn‘t pretty and I’m not anxious to see an encore performance.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to do anything.”

“Then what?” Graham asked warily.

“I just need you to not do something…to be out of pocket this weekend.”

“And why’s that?”

“I‘d rather not say.”

Without hesitation Graham slid the vials back across the table, “Then the answer is no.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is more 8:32 than you could score on your own in a year.”

“You know the rule, Bil. If she asks me, I can’t say no. Remember, she’s still my supervisor. I could get written up…again. And you know what that does to my profit-sharing status. I have to retire sometime and I don’t intend to live like an Orphan when I do.”

Morris noticed that unlike Ramona, Graham made no pretense of being sorry for his choice of words. His disdain for Orphans was clear and unapologetic.

Nabil took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat sighing, “Look Graham, I’m not trying to get you involved in anything. I planned to have her undivided attention this weekend. We’ve been planning for over a month, but something has come up that potentially is going to ruin it.”

“As if anything could distract her from you?” Graham laughed but there was no mirth in it.

“She’s going to contact you to ask you for a favor and I need you to be unavailable...you, Allison any of the team.”

“First it’s me, now it’s me, Allison…any of the team. Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

“Because I don’t have time. Besides, they probably wouldn’t do it for me even if I came to them on my knees, but for you…?”

“What’s this all about?” Graham asked as he unconsciously batted the vials back and forth on the table.

Then Nabil began speaking what sounded like the language that he and Ramona had been speaking in the apartment earlier. Graham nodded then responded in the same language and for a brief moment cut his eyes toward Morris. Without knowing the language Morris could tell that Nabil was anxious, pleading his case. Graham suddenly broke into English saying, “You’re insane. It won’t work”

“I know what I‘m doing.” Nabil replied.

“No. You don’t know. Have you ever been with her when she’s been pushed feral? She’s worse than a Revenant. They’re used to being predatory. They know how to reel themselves in, how to turn it off. She doesn’t. It takes lots of planning and manpower. I bet you don‘t even have any wolfs bane to contain her or hawthorn to restrain her.”

“I have hawthorn and I can get wolfs bane. I have it under control,” Nabil responded tersely.

“I shouldn’t let you do this. It’s a bad idea.”

“Then I guess I’ll just take my 8:32 and go, ” Nabil said with his hand outstretched.

For a few moments Graham’s gaze moved between the vials on the table and Nabil’s empty hand before he drawled out, “You know…you’re still on The List.”

“So I’ve heard.” Nabil replied, “But I made that decision long ago, Graham and I’m not sorry.”

“The seven of us…the Alpha Team, together, we were invincible. We had everything and you threw it all away. No conversation, no good byes. You just left.”

“That’s what you think, that I deserted you…and the others, too?” .

“Ask them yourself, that is if you ever dredge up the courage to face them.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“You did what you wanted to do like always. And everyone else suffers for it…her especially. You didn’t even bother trying to contact anyone after you left--”

“--Because I knew everyone would be upset. And I did try to contact Ramona a few times but she never responded.”

“You deserted your position so you could run around and live among the savages. She was your superior officer, Bil. You know the protocol. You left, so who do you think paid for it? Did you ever ask yourself what happened to us that first year after you left; or what happened to her?”

“We’ve worked through it. It’s in the past.”

“You know, you’re pretty damned cavalier for a man with such a hefty price on his head. I’ve actually toyed with the idea of collecting that bounty myself a few times.”

Morris was surprised when Nabil failed to become angry or bellicose. Instead he smiled broadly as if he were amused saying, “Now you don’t really believe you could take me, Graham.”

Unfazed, Graham smiled back confidently, “You should be grateful that you’ll never have to find out. Face it. No one’s crazy enough to try and collect as long as Ramona has an interest in you.”

“So now you’re hiding behind Ramona,” Nabil scoffed, “We’ve been cordial all this time and now you’re on the attack. Could it possibly be that without me here, you had Ramona all to yourself? And now that I‘m back for the duration, she’s not so available? The fact that she chose me should demonstrate to even you that whatever she’s suffered on my behalf was obviously not as intolerable a you think.” Nabil replied curtly.

“Now you’re just being a fool. Take this," he said tossing Nabil one of the vials. "She’ll need to drink half of it before you get started. If things get bad, she’ll do or say anything to get loose. The only real protection you have is that on 8:32 she won’t be able to lie. So if you keep your head, you can stay in front of her."

“Thanks,“ Nabil said as he pocketed the vial.

“Has it ever occurred to you that she didn’t tell you anything because she still loves you,” Graham said as he rose from the table taking the rest of the vials with him, “This little favor notwithstanding, make no mistake Bil, I don’t love you--not anymore.”

And just like that, the blonde Adonis and eleven vials of 8:32 slipped from the table in an ethereal rush that felt like a momentary vacuum of air and sound leaving Morris breathless and even more anxious about what Ramona had in store.

-o)0(o- 

When they stepped out of the club into the night. The stars were brilliant bursts against the dark sky. It was funny how he had never noticed how beautiful they were, the stark contrast between dark and light. Nabil’s focus wasn’t on the stars, though. He was focused on getting them back to the apartment before Ramona found out they had gone. Their pace was brisk on the walk back and any mood Nabil had for conversation had evaporated after his altercation with Graham.

Gradually Morris began to realize that they were passing many of the landmarks the two of them had seen on their way out and gathered they were getting closer to the apartment. But almost two blocks shy of the neighborhood from where they had begun their journey, Nabil stopped short.

“What’s wrong?” Morris asked as Nabil turned around slowly.

“Follow me,” Nabil said and began walking slowly, then more quickly past the turn which would have led them back to the apartment. Several blocks later they crossed into an area that was less populated and more rundown.

“Where are we going?” Morris asked as he tried to keep up with the fast pace.”

“Shh!” Nabil snapped as he changed direction again and headed slowly between two dilapidated buildings.

And at that moment for the first time Morris realized that Nabil had been following a sound and if he listened closely, he found that he could hear it too. As they approached the building the intermittent drone of moaning…fearful moaning punctuated the darkness they stepped off into. Just like inside the club, his eyes became accustomed to the dim quickly but what he saw left him aghast. Two bodies lay near lifeless in the alley, much like he himself was in the park when Ramona interceded. But near these two bodies was no cosmopolitan Revenant with an exotic well-traveled valet in tow. The two bodies were instead beset by ghoulish-looking creatures; pale, but not the porcelain pale of Madame Budkha. It was a sickly washed out pallor reminiscent of something drowned and bloated and smelling as putrid. The manner in which they moved was nothing at all like the precise efficient movement he’d observed with the Renfields and Revenants. It was a halting almost crablike scuttling back and forth over the weakly resisting victims. Before he even realized it he was out in front of Nabil stepping ever closer to the macabre banquet, transfixed by the horror and fascination of what it obviously represented.

“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t we help them?” He whispered.

“They’re beyond help.” Nabil replied coolly.

In the darkness the two bodies were overrun in intermittent swarms by the things that at one time used to be men and women.

“Is this what the Revenants leave behind when they’re done with someone like me?” Morris asked.

“No.” Nabil replied, “When a Revenant is done feeding they’ll either keep you or kill you. But when a Revenant doesn’t take possession or doesn't dispose of the prey, the prey if allowed to breed produces a new but defective bloodline. If for instance you were permitted to live and breed in your current condition - this,” he indicated toward the building swarm, “would be the outcome.”

Considering the viciousness with which the Orphans preyed on the two it appeared that the only reason the victims held any life in them at all was because each time cars approached or loud voices were heard nearby the feeding things would scatter like rats, then once the immediate threat had passed, they would quickly reconvene huddling over the bodies clawing and biting wherever they could take hold.. Morris could feel more than actually see Nabil observing him from the corner of his eye.

“Ramona would have killed them all by now.” Nabil said matter-of-factly as they watched. .

“If I knew how, I probably woud kill them all too,” Morris replied.

“You would kill them because they frighten and repulse you,” Nabil replied, “Ramona would kill them because they are a threat to the Empire.”

“She’s a soldier, then.”

“Among other things,” Nabil frowned. “Killing even of these things should not be guided by broad overarching goals. It should be determined by circumstances, not by policy.”

At the same time that Morris stepped back to join Nabil, he felt the rush of air sweep by him and watched as Nabil rose several yards in front of him corporealizing in a dagger of fog, like a genie out of bottle, hovering beside the two bodies. The creatures were momentarily paralyzed at the sight of the uninvited guest, momentarily unsure as to what to do. They didn’t see the switchblade, neither did Morris, not until after Nabil had effortlessly slashed the throats of the two creatures that crouched to his left.

He’s left-handed, Morris thought to himself as he watched the bizarre slaughter unfold.

Morris thought to himself as he watched the bizarre slaughter unfold.

One weapon, one blade. That’s all he had yet he moved so swiftly and cleanly the confused creatures had no idea where he would strike or where he would rise next. The space between the buildings had been a deathtrap for the two victims. It would be the same for the ghouls who were the perpetrators and those who came to participate in the grisly repast.

All the Renfield precision of movement was summed up in what could only be described as an exquisitely choreographed massacre, flawless in its economy of movement, and fearless in its sense of purposefulness. The visitation of death repeated itself in variations on the theme. There were no wounded. Every incident of contact with the blade was mortal. Morris watched transfixed as the merciless weapon sliced and slashed into corrupted Orphan flesh. One would have expected the ground to be covered in rivulets of blood, but Morris found that nothing in this new improbable world could be counted on to perform as expected. When the blade had its way with the first two he was much too stunned to notice what happened afterward but by the seventh or eighth body to fall, the gruesomeness of it all became very clear.

Each time the blade sang, instead of carving a bloody path through solid flesh, upon contact with the knife the warped bodies seemingly peeled open emitting a foul, nauseating odor; And in place of blood and fragments of organs the bodies spewed what he at first thought was a bubbling, curdling gelatinous gore. He watched transfixed as one by one Nabil moved between them herding and slicing, containing and dispatching. Close by Nabil deftly sliced open the abdomen of one of them and Morris watched in horror as the pathetic creature stumbled past him desperately pulling at the flesh that retreated from its midsection trying to hold its spilling guts inside. Defeated in its attempt to salvage its body, the thing fell to the ground vomiting up its viscera and convulsing near Morris’s feet; and that’s when Morris got a good close look at the gelatinous substance that made up those creatures’ entrails. That oozing mess which the thing was trying to swallow, hold and force back inside itself, that pus-colored gore…was alive.

As the thing lay scrambling desperately to pull itself back together Morris could see hundreds of tiny heads with vicious little snouts and clawing arms all grabbing, pulling and chewing at each other struggling to escape the creature’s body before it drew its last breath, as if they could realistically exist separate and apart from it. They strained against the body but were amorphous and congealed connected to each other in a flowing and shifting mass unable to separate from one another or from their eviscerated host. Nabil slashed the blade through the throat of another that fell close enough for Morris to see the foaming and bubbling of the savagely thrashing rodent like entities wriggling and clawing away at the wound before drowning back into the doomed Orphan as it liquefied, pooled then evaporated. His attention was drawn to the shrill desperate screams of the two victims who were finally realizing that they would be shown no more mercy than the Orphans. Their screams only lasted for a moment before coming to an abrupt halt.

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. The entire contingent of Orphans and their victims…gone. But Nabil who was stalking ever closer to him had not yet closed the blade. His intention seemed clear.

“Ramona said she could help me,” He managed to squeak out.

“If it had been me and not her that found you, you would have been dead by now. Though you mean no harm, the risk is entirely too great,” He replied.

“Morris’ stomach turned. “But I wouldn’t have to breed.”

“But you would. It’s one of those biological imperatives. The need can become overwhelming. Little by little it insinuates itself and without you knowing it, one day you would find that it had become part and parcel of everything you do; and even if you were very careful, one day inevitably you would make a mistake. And if you don‘t possess the knowledge, skill or resolve to clean up your own messes, one well-placed mistake can become very dangerous, very quickly for all of us.”

Morris then understood what Ramona was battling against, a city overrun with monstrous bastard Orphans who seemed more animal than human, uncontrolled and uncontrollable in their lust to feed. And it was clear that to Nabil, he was just an accident waiting to happen. Morris held his breath as Nabil lowered the blade then folded it back into its hilt.

“We’ve got to get back,” He said resuming their course toward the apartment.

Morris followed woodenly taking one last look at the bodies of the two victims who had been unfortunate enough to meet up with the wrong perpetrators and unlike himself had been unfortunate enough to be rescued by the wrong savior.
        

-o)0(o-

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~continuing
 

When they entered the apartment Nabil made certain that Morris had his jacket hung precisely as it had been when Ramona left, then busily shuffled and dealt cards on the table in the small living area. The two had only completed three hands of gin-rummy when Ramona walked back into the unit with her arms filled with bags of groceries, flustered and agitated.

“I thought you’d be back hours ago,” Nabil said as he went to help with the bags.

”I thought I so too, but it took longer than I expected,” She answered while putting the groceries away.

Nabil began to help stow away the canned goods all the while watching Ramona move around the kitchen scattered and unfocused before he commented, “You seem a little distracted.” .

Ramona lowered her voice to a whisper but Morris could just barely make out her troubled admission, “No one on the team can help me with this…problem. No one seems to be available. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“It is the weekend. Most people do have plans.” Nabil said goading her a bit.

“I know that,” she answered lowering her voice even further, “but I promised Morris that I would help him. If I don‘t undo this thing. Paloma wins.”

“You shouldn’t have made a promise you couldn’t keep,” Nabil responded soberly.

“I could keep it. I can keep it. All I need is a little assistance.”

“But you’ve already said there’s no one available.”

“There is someone.”

“Then you should contact them soon. From my perspective it doesn’t appear that you have much time.”

Ramona looked past his shoulder toward where Morris was seated looking pale and drawn.

“Bil,” she cajoled, “you know you’re the only other person who can do this.”

“What do you mean?” He asked feigning ignorance.

“Will you do it?”

“Mona, remember I said I would never do it again.” Nabil taunted.

“I know and I would never ask except there really is no one else and this really is an emergency.”

Nabil heaved a heavy sigh and scratched his head as if weighing all his options then said, “Fine Mona…but just this one time.”

“Thank you. Thank you Bil,” she said as she pelted his face with kisses.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said holding her back, “It might not work.”

“It has to. So let me get him something to eat and then we can undo this mess.”

“I’ll start getting everything in place,” He said then disappeared into the bedroom.

Ramona began to busy herself with preparing a meal for Morris which she said would bring the color back to his cheeks. What she didn’t know was that his pallor was less due to his condition than it was due to the knowledge that if everything didn’t go as planned, Nabil was prepared to make certain that Morris would never have the occasion to see above ground again.

-o)0(o-

Surprisingly Ramona was actually a pretty good cook and just as she indicated, after he ate he felt better almost immediately. Ramona encouraged him to drink down a glass of red wine then she followed Nabil’s path to the bedroom telling him they would be ready to get started in a few minutes. Left in the room alone again for a moment he considered the possibility of making a run for the door but then recalled how easily Nabil dispensed with a score of Orphans he determined to stay put until summoned…and it didn’t take long. The door to the bedroom swung open and Nabil leaned out saying, “We’re ready.”

-o)0(o-

Morris had been both excited and anxious when he entered the room. He had visions of strange potions, incantations, candles and robes. Instead he found Nabil and Ramona sitting on the bed in their pajamas looking about as normal as anyone could. But for the fact that her hair was now puffed and loose reaching past her shoulders, she still retained that sense of restraint that she had exhibited from the start. Ramona rose and approached the dresser where three cocktail glasses full of a transparent coppery-looking liquid were set out. She handed one to Morris saying, “Drink this. It’ll help you relax.”

As he began to drink, Ramona handed the second glass to Nabil and she began to drink the third.

“Wait,” Nabil said then from the breast pocket of his pajamas produced the vial that Graham had returned to him.

“8:32?” Ramona asked with a little edge to her voice, “Where did you get that?”

“From a business contact,” he said as he opened the vial and poured half the contents into her drink.

Ramona’s jaw was set, and even though she didn’t move a muscle, Morris could tell she was furious.

“Drink up. We don’t have a lot of time,” Nabil said, “And I’m not going forward with this until you drink it.”

“Why 8:32?” She asked, the tension in her voice starting to show.

“Because you’ll have a difficult time lying to me on 8:32 and there is no way I’m going to let you get pushed predatory and have you lying to me at the same time. That’s the fastest way to having my throat ripped out. And I’ve become accustomed to having a throat.”

Morris could tell that she didn’t want to drink it, but he also knew based upon Nabil’s impeccable planning, that she was out of options…that is if she still intended to keep her promise. After a moment of staring daggers at Nabil, Ramona drank down the cocktail, handed him the empty glass and said, There, now are you happy?”

“Very,” Nabil smiled smugly as he retrieved the glasses and returned them to the dresser.

“You know you can’t ask me about my work, Bil.” she said as she settled back onto the bed.”

“If anything about your department interested me, I’d still be working there,” He replied as he moved up onto the bed beside her. “Move closer.” he said directing her toward the head of the bed.  Ramona moved forward standing on her knees then she leaned forward to grasp the top of the polished mahogany headboard. “Are you comfortable?” He whispered in her ear as he moved in behind her on his knees pressing his body forward to meet the back of hers. Morris recalled thinking how cute they looked in their matching pajamas, his a button front silk set in midnight blue and hers a baby doll set in the same fabric. The cuteness abruptly ended however when Nabil reached forward and pulled up from the side of the headboard what Morris thought were decorations, but which were in all actuality heavy wooden chains, one long set of wooden links attached to each side of the headboard. Nabil pulled them long and lay them flat on the mattress. The manacles just barely passed Ramona’s knees when they were stretched to their full length.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked her while slipping a quick cautionary glance at Morris.

“Of course I do,” She smiled confidently and winked at Morris.

Then with no further discussion, Nabil swept her pajama top off over her head and closed the manacles around each of her wrists. Her hands immediately dropped to her sides and her body fell back in a swoon.

“What happened?! What’s wrong with her?” Morris asked as he vaulted from his chair and approached the two on the bed.

“Nothing. She’s fine.” Nabil replied as he supported her weight against his chest and in an act of modesty covered her breasts with his arms, “She’s just very sensitive to hawthorne. She’ll only be out for a minute or two.”

“Will she be able to finish this?” Morris asked nervously without taking his eyes off Ramona.

“She’ll be fine. Hawthorne is used to bind feral Revenants. It reduces their strength and because of her unusual pedigree, it does the same thing to her. If we pushed her to a feral state without binding her, it would take everyone we know in Enforcement to bring her down and keep her from doing to hundreds what Paloma has done to you.”

Ramona’s eye fluttered open and she struggled to get up again onto her knees, “Sorry. I haven’t done this in a while. It affected me more than I remembered.”

“You were only gone a couple of minutes,” Nabil reassured her.

“Fine,” She said as she leaned forward to grip the headboard, “Let’s get this done.”

In the short time that Ramona had been talking Nabil had repositioned himself so that Ramona was essentially sitting with her weight supported on his thighs. His hands still covered her breasts but now they were active…smoothing, pinching and squeezing. His fingers twirled around her nipples which swelled and visibly hardened to his touch. Ramona’s eyes closed and her head rolled back as Nabil’s hands left off teasing her breasts and roamed over her body. She began to moan and gyrate alternately grinding downward onto his lap making as much contact as she could with the bulge that had developed there while also leaning and pressing into his hands wherever they made contact. Nabil spread his knees forcing her thighs open then slipped one of his hands down inside the front of her pantalettes to rest at the nexus between her thighs.

“Maybe I should step outside,” Morris said nervously blushing as he stood and turned toward the door.

“No,” Nabil answered while continuing his focused attack on Ramona’s erogenous zones, “but you can avert your eyes if this is…bothering you,” Nabil smiled slyly as Morris shielded the erection that had risen on its own accord when the play began.

“There’s no other way to do this?” Morris asked still blushing.

“Hunger and emotional upheavals are ways to get it done, but if you’ve noticed,” he smiled as he pinched her voluptuous bottom, “she hasn’t missed too many meals lately, so…hunger is out.”

“Hasn’t missed many meals?” she huffed, “This is the first time I’ve heard any complaints.”

“No. No complaints,” he responded as he slapped her thigh playfully then kissed her with the same intensity Morris recalled from the moment Nabil first entered the apartment.

It was then also that Morris noticed the sharp peaks shining like pearly white daggers dipping below Nabil’s upper lip as he whispered in Ramona’s ear, “When we’re done with this little project, I’m going to ride you hard all night long.”

“Promises, promises,” she sighed and moaned with her own pearly white daggers flashing.

Nabil then turned his attention back to Morris. “Relying upon emotional responses to get this done would be ill-advised. They are much too inconsistent. They can push one over the line into a predatory state but just as easily, push in the opposite direction. Suffice it to say that this is the most reliable way…and…the most pleasurable.”

Now it was Nabil’s turn to moan. He left off conversation as his body fell into a rhythm with Ramona rocking and grinding. Her hands flew back in a futile attempt to grab him and touch him but were hindered by the chains that bound her at the wrist and only permitted limited motion. When Morris again opened his mouth to speak his tongue grazed the sharp points of his own now prominent fleams. Certainly they were no match for ths ones wielded by Ramona and her consort Nabil but they were adequate to their task.

“Bil, please take these off me. Let me go,” she moaned tearfully fighting against the manacles.

“Mmmm,” Nabil smiled, “Looks like we’re ready.”

“I’m fine. Really I am,” Ramona reassured them as she continued to struggle against the hawthorne chains.

Morris was stunned. As attractive as Ramona had been when she was directing the movements of this endeavor, she far outstripped it sitting there a chained predator, hungry and vulnerable.

“C’mon Ramona,”Nabil soothed, “It’ll be over in a second.”

“No! No! No!” Ramona began to scream and thrash, “I don’t want to! I don’t want it!”

Before he could stop himself, Morris was beside Ramona trying to calm her, “You’re all right. Everything’s fine,” he said as he tried to smooth her hair which was now wild and loose.

“Step back!” Nabil shouted and pushed him just as Ramona whipped around and tried to viciously latch onto his arm.

“She can’t draw blood, at least not yet…if you want this to work.” Nabil snapped as he tried to settle the struggling Ramona.

“I’m sorry,” Morris said, “I just thought I could help calm her down.”

“Keep away from her,” Nabil warned, “She’s in a predatory mode, now. She will say or do anything to feed…and right now…so would I.”

Morris never saw Nabil grab Ramona by the hair, never saw him brusquely position her neck to just the right angle. All he saw in the flashof activity was Nabil’s hand around her throat when she gave up her fruitless struggling...when those sharp white fleams pierced her brown skin yielding two tiny rivulet of crimson that trailed over his fingers then dropped onto her breasts. Though he himself had not even touched Ramona he could almost feel the movement of her blood/  With each draw Nabil made against her he could almost taste the sangreal flow.

Until that very moment Morris truly believed he could deny the biological imperative to feed, the overwhelming desire to taste and consume. At that moment, however, he realized that his denial was simply that…a foolish denial of the course that his changed life would take. As he watched Nabil and Ramona fall into a rhythm, their breath drawn in unison, he too fell into their rhythm drawing breath with them until Nabil disengaged and collapsed on the bed behind Ramona who pitched forward in a near  ecstatic swoon. Nabil lay on the bed for a moment, eyes closed seemingly riding the aftershocks of the feeding as he would have ridden the aftershocks of an orgasm  leisurely running his hand over her back and buttocks. Morris coveted his expression of contented bliss and wondered how it must feel to lie there satisfied and suffused with her essence. But as he wondered about the experience he noticed a subtle shift in Nabil’s demeanor. His calm and satisfied expression was disturbed.

“What the hell…?” Nabil bristled as he slowly drew himself to a seated position. “What is that…is that…what is that flavor, that taste…Ramona?”

Ramona remained silent on the bed not moving muscle.

“I know you hear me Ramona. You will explain.”

Ramona rose and turned the best she could while weighed down by the wooden chains.

“Don’t ask me questions you really don’t want to know the answers to,” Ramona replied with a nonchalance that informed Morris that Nabil probably didn’t want to know.”

“It’s faint, but it’s there. I can taste him on you, Ramona…his blood. Tell me it's not true.  Tell me you haven't been with Graham!"

~to be continued

 

 

 

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“No, I’m not involved with Graham,” Ramona said stolidly.

“Then you need to explain this to me, Mona because there aren’t too many ways your blood could be polluted with his.”

“Well since it’s not what you in your small, suspicious mind conceives, then it can only be one thing can’t it?

Morris was unable to interpret the expression on Nabil’s face, but if he didn’t know better it looked quite a bit like fear.

“Graham is my pont entre le sang et le feu.” Ramona continued.

“Your what? That’s absurd! First, only a priestess or priest can occupy that position. Graham is just a chaplain.

“We don’t have time to talk about this, now.” Ramona replied indicating at Morris, “We’ve got more important things to deal with.”

“You have no history of dementia or mental collapse. Why would you need a pont entre le sang et le feu?

“I’m sorry. My French is not very good but are you saying ‘a bridge between the blood and the fire’?” Morris interjected.

Ramona nodded, “Your interpretation is correct.”

“So what does that mean?” Morris asked even though Nabil was clearly irritated at his interruption.

When a Renfield suffers from the fire of dementia or insanity the condition can be stabilized by initiating a link with another Renfield, a Renfield who acts as a bridge. After a time the majority are able to stabilize on their own but some need… more intensive restructuring.

“You have no history, none. No one in your bloodline has any history. I know that!” Nabil ranted as she spoke. Ramona turned and addressed him even though he would not meet her gaze.

“Bil you know there’s only one reason why anyone that has no history would ever need one.”

Nabil shook his head in disbelief, “You’re lying. I don’t believe you!”

“I couldn’t lie to you while on 8:32 even if I wanted to. Besides, what do I gain from lying? The fact is that you decided to go AWOL. I was your commanding officer. Do you have any idea how I felt when I had to stand before the Order alone when they pronounced sentence on you in absentia? How all our friends felt?”

“It wasn’t an issue for the Order, Ramona. It was a corporate issue,” Nabil defended.

“When you left you stole corporate property Nabil. Now I’m sure you thought you had good reason at the time but some of those items were cultural and religious artifacts. If you had left without taking them, you would only have been facing disciplinary action, but…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You should have contacted me, told me to come back.” he said.

“You didn’t tell me where you were going. You didn’t share your little scheme with me or anyone else on the Enforcement Team. You just took what you wanted and left.”

“I thought telling you would place you in peril, that it would subject you to the same sanctions as me.” He sighed.

“Exactly. So you know how this works. As your commanding officer your punishment became my punishment. So instead of simple AWOL charges, your impulsive and selfish act of removing the relics raised the charges to high treason.”

“This is insane. If I was charged with treason then why is there no order of confinement?”

“Naïvete really does not become you, Nabil. You know why…It’s because I had to serve your sentence. I spent a year at the Lathe, at the core of hell because of you.”

-o)0(o-

Again Nabil moved so quickly that Morris never saw him until he was sitting in front of Ramona shouting and shaking her shoulders. He was livid however her expression remained the same.

“It’s a lie, a trick, some scheme cooked up by you and Graham to bind me to you, to force me back to Renfield Investigations and Enforcement!”

“No tricks, Nabil,” she replied wearily, “Why do you think I never told you? Why none of us ever told you? I knew you’d react this way.”

“Why didn’t the Corporation just bring me in?”

“Who do you think they would have sent after you? I would have been ordered to send the Alpha team, our friends to arrest you and drag you in like an animal.”

“I would have come.”

“Would you? I’m not so sure about that. If you knew the charge was treason you wouldn’t have just trotted right back to headquarters with your hands up proclaiming, mea culpa.”

“I might have.”

“Now who’s lying?”

If he had been anyone else, Morris might not have noticed the change in Nabil’s posture. Even though his tone remained the same, it was clear that where he was once defiant and accusatory, he was now desperately seeking absolution.

“So for this nearly insignificant act which was escalated to treason I was sentenced to a year in the Lathe?” He asked.

“No, you were sentenced to death, Nabil. It was commuted to life imprisonment or a year in the Lathe after I spent all of my free time and half of my savings tracking down and retrieving the majority of the relics you sold to finance your little expedition.”

Nabil sat on the edge of the bed and began to laugh spitefully. “Don’t you think it’s amazing that even after you spent a year in the Lathe, there’s still a bounty on my head?”

“You are only wanted for questioning with regard to the sale of the relics. The Corporation is interested in knowing who originally fenced them. They’re cracking down on theft of corporate property. If they ever bother to bring you in, you’ll probably serve three years as a warning to others.

“Unbelievable,” Nabil muttered under his breath.

“I’m glad this is such a nuisance to you. It’s rather serious to the rest of us. What you did was not just a crime Bil. It was a sin. You must understand the importance of your being made to repent. It would be inappropriate for anyone to believe that you were above the law.” She added dispassionately.

“I think I’m starting to understand,” Bil snorted, “You thought that revealing this grand gesture, this deep sacrifice to save my life was going to be the thing that made me realize the sincerity of your love…the thing that would finally convince me that I should love you.”

Until that point Ramona’s expression had been the same, a stern but placid expression. But as Nabil spoke she smiled and replied, “You’re right. I guess I did think that once you knew the truth, that once you knew what I had been through you’d realize how much I care for you. But you don’t. You don’t care about anything but yourself, Bil.”

“You know that’s not true,” he said uneasily.

“Of course it is,” she continued to smile, “Everyone told me but I wouldn’t listen. I refused to see what was right in front of me.”

“You knew the limitations of this. Don’t act as though you didn’t.”

“You wanted to know why they never sent anyone for you, Bil? You’re right. It was because of me…but not because I loved you, but because I was afraid. If I had sent Alison to bring you in, on a good day she might have been able to take you but odds were that she wouldn’t survive an encounter where you felt you were fighting for your life. And Michelle and Miguel together would have had a good chance of subduing you but separated you could kill them both quite easily. Then there’s Graham. I am pretty certain that with a little effort he could have killed you but despite his many short-comings he has a conscience. He would have regretted killing you as any of them would have if they were fortunate enough, to kill you, first. You think this is all about you, Nabil but frankly I was not about to risk the lives and welfare of our friends. Where they would hesitate to kill you, you wouldn’t be inclined to offer the same circumspection in their regard.

“That’s not true,” he uttered barely above a whisper.

“The truth is, I should have come for you myself. I should have killed you when they first ordered it and saved us all this headache and heartache.”

Nabil didn’t say another word as he brusquely retrieved his clothes and left the room. For several minutes Morris and Ramona sat in silence allowing the weight of the argument to permeate everything in the room until she said, “Well I guess you better help me out of these things.”

“Of course, of course” Morris said as he hurried to her side and began looking for the release mechanism on the manacle. It took a moment but he figured out how the clasp worked and was about to trigger it when from the corner of his eye, he caught her expression. It was only fleeting, just a fraction of a moment but long enough that he understood the mistake he was about to make.

“Ramona,” he asked as he moved away from the bed, “Are you still in a feral state?”

Ramona shifted on the bed struggling for a moment against the effects of the 8:32 and the heavy chains then relaxed and replied, “Yes, it appears that I am still in a feral state.”

“And just now when I was about to release you, were you planning on killing me?”

Ramona struggled again obviously attempting to choose her words, carefully then said, “Yes, I believe I was definitely planning to kill you.”

“Well I appreciate your honesty such that it is,” Morris said, “But you know that I really can’t let you go, then”

“Well Morris,” she said with the same murderous twinkle he had seen just moments earlier, “I will get free somehow and I promise you that if you let me go, now, I’ll do what I promised.”

“All right. That sounds fair but…what if I no longer want what you promised?”

Morris thought the puzzled expression on Ramona’s face was worth all the consternation he had been put through to that point.

“What do you mean, you no longer want what was promised?” She asked “This is the only reason you’re here Morris, the only reason ”

“What if I don’t want to be returned to how I was? What if I want to be like you?”

 

 

~to be continued 

                                                                            -o)0(o-

“Like me?”

          “Yes, a Renfield like you.  I could learn.”

          “It’s not a thing to be learned.  It’s who we are…our bloodline.”

          “Well didn’t Madame Budkha or some other Revenant make you into what you are?”

          “Of course not!” Ramona said, her sense of indignation flaring, “Renfields  are born into the bloodline.  We have existed for thousands of years with no need to contaminate our bloodline with that of Revenants.”

          “But, you are part Revenant, correct?”  Morris asked, “I mean if you’re part human, part of you has to be Revenant, too.”

          “I am no more Revenant than you are female simply because your mother was female.”

          “I guess…”  Morris pondered, “…it’s something like how a mule is neither horse nor donkey though it comes from both.” 

          “I guess in a gross, broad and extremely crude analogy that would be accurate” she replied.

          “Well is there some sort of adoption process?”  He asked.

          “There is an adoption process but you’ve already been contaminated by Paloma.  I doubt that even my mother could undo the damage that’s been done.”

          “So there is no escape from me becoming a thing…an Orphan?”

          “An Orphan?  What do you know of Orphans?”  Ramona asked warily.

          “Nabil…he told me about them, how low and revolting they are.  Is that what I can look forward to?”

          “Come sit,” Ramona said indicating at the side of the bed near her.  When Morris hesitated, she smiled, “I’m not going to hurt you.  I promise.”

          Knowing her ability to deceive him was severely inhibited, he sat on the bed close to her.

          “As I think about it,” she said, “There may be a little something I could do for you.”

          “Really? What?” Morris brightened.

          “Well, I can’t technically make you into a Renfield…but I can make you… mine.”

          “What exactly does that mean?” Morris asked moving even closer.

          “You would have many of the attributes of a Renfield, but unassociated with a Revenant house.”

          “Like a Renfield’s Renfield.”

          “Well, no…actually…like a Renfield’s pet.”

          “A pet?”     

          “It’s not so bad.  You’ll have most of the capabilities of a Renfield you just won’t be a Renfield or belong to a Revenant house, like a Renfield.”

          “So how is that any different from being an Orphan?” Morris pouted.

          “It is different because you will be with me.”

          “With you?  All the time?”

          “Well, not when I’m working but, yes.  You’ll be with me.”

          Morris weighed the proposition for a moment then asked, “And you won’t kill me?”

          “I didn’t say that.  The probability exists that I am eventually going to kill you, but until then you’ll have no complaints.  Believe me.”

          Morris sat thinking again, considering his life up to that moment, the anonymity, the distance, the alienation, then said, “I really wanted to be a Renfield, to belong to something.”

          “You will belong, Morris.  You’ll belong to me.” She smiled displaying her engaged fleams which to his mind made her look even more charming.

          And with that, Morris didn’t require any additional convincing.

          “What do I need to do?”

          Ramona smiled, the predator in her rising and said, “Come closer.”

 

          Before he could settle in front of her, Ramona was on him, her thighs straddling his, her lips pressed against his neck, her tongue tracing the course of his artery. 

          “Nervous?”  She smiled as she pressed her free hand against his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

          “A little,” he said managing a tense half smile recalling that not too many hours had passed since Madame Budkha had forcibly savaged and bled him nearly to death . 

          Ramona smiled acknowledging his consternation saying, “Don’t worry.  I’ll take care of you.”

 

          Even with one hand still in the manacle, Ramona was able to handily unbutton his shirt and work his belt free.  For the first time Morris realized that he was still dressed for work wearing the shirt and pants from his concierge uniform.  The jacket had been left in his locker.  Where did I put my keys?  He shook his head then smiled to himself wondering why something so mundane would come to him at that moment when his entire life was about to change forever.

 

          “Relax,” Ramona purred, “It won’t hurt...much.”

 

          By that time Morris was unconcerned with pain as his hands freely roamed her body exploring her curves, valleys and peaks.  At the same time that her tongue bathed the site of  the strike and her fleams broke flesh his hands were sliding from the small of her back downward to caress her bottom.  He was surprised at how easy it was to shred through the fabric to make contact with her bare skin.  Never in his life had he felt such hunger and such peace.

          “Ahhhh, very nice,”  Ramona sighed as she rose above him wiping the vestiges of his blood from the tips of her fleams with the tip of her tongue, “It’s unfortunate that Paloma has contaminated you.  Your blood is near pristine…very rare for a Paradoxan male in your age category.”   

 

          Morris didn’t know what that meant and was far beyond caring as his lips, teeth and tongue aggressively made contact with her nipples and areolas.  Ramona squealed then laughed as he worked to negotiate the act of suckling her breasts while avoiding injury to her with his newly formed and engaged fleams.  He hardly recognized his own voice when he asked, “When?  When do I get to do it…to feed?”

 

          “Patience,”  Ramona said stroking his head in a way that was as soothing as it was patronizing, “But first you need to make certain that Bil hasn’t set any traps to keep us in.”

          “Traps?  What do you mean?” Morris asked as Ramona extricated herself from his grasp.

          “Well, in your current condition, if you don’t sleep, you could still walk through that door regardless as to whether it was made of hawthorne, trimmed in roses and rubbed down in garlic.  You’re still Paradoxan, still quite human.  But in my current feral state I couldn’t…not without serious injury.  And if you feed before you make certain that there is nothing holding us in, we will both be trapped here unless and until someone comes along to release us; and Bil though probably willing to eventually let me go, will not be as generous with you.”

          “What should I do?”  Morris asked as he rose from the bed donning his pants ready to do whatever was necessary to begin his new life.

          “He doesn’t like anything too messy or overly complicated.  So look for anything that might be embedded in the door jamb or placed on the doorknob.”  Ramona said as Morris entered the small living area and approached the door.

 

          “I don’t smell anything like garlic,” he called back into the room to Ramona.

          “I didn’t think you would,” she called back, “It’s too messy to deal with and he’d hate to have to clean it off once we  were dealt with.  Feel around the door sill.  Is there anything that feels like it’s protruding or out of place?”

 

          Morris listened to Ramona as he wedged his fingers tight against the door sill then started at the floor level and worked his way upward around the door. “Yes.  It feels like nails…little wooden nails embedded between the door sill and the wall.”

          “That sounds like something he’d do.  You need to get a knife and pry them out.”

          “All right,” Morris responded and rushed over to where he saw Ramona earlier storing the cutlery near the sink.  After pulling out four of the nails he called into the bedroom, “I’ve got them!”

          “Did you check the entire door?”  Ramona asked.

          “Well-uh-I just assumed that--”

          “--No!”  Ramona shouted.  “Never assume.  Bil is nothing if not thorough.  Check the entire door.”

          Morris was a little deflated having already botched his first assignment but persevered and found an additional twelve wooden nails which he quickly wrapped in tin foil and stowed under the kitchen cabinet.

 

          “Did you get it all?”  She asked as he returned to the bedroom.

          “Yes. That was all of it,” he smiled proud of his accomplishment.

          “Then, I guess you’ve earned your feeding now, haven’t you?”

 

          Morris’ heart leapt.  Ramona’s words were like music, an overture to his new life.  His body trembled as he sat down beside her waiting for instruction.

          “Well, what do I do now,” he asked after a moment.

          “It seems rather self-explanatory,” she half-laughed.

          “Yes, I suppose it does,” he smiled displaying his fully engaged fleams.

          And then he moved so quickly he barely was aware of it himself and was behind Ramona nearly mimicking the position that she and Nabil were posed in not too much earlier.  Instinctively his tongue traced the outline of her artery feeling the pulse of  her blood. 

          “You don’t have to press hard.” Ramona said as he prepared to make his first strike, “The fleams are sharp and will pierce the skin without too much effort.  Just relax and breathe.”

 

          At the moment right before the first strike he recalled feeling hot and cold simultaneously, being ravenous and aroused.  Again it seemed that no time passed between the moment he acknowledged his arousal and him stripping off his pants and underwear and pressing his erection against the cleft in Ramona’s bottom.

 

          He found that the desire to feed was much like the desire for sex.  The more ardent the desire, the more one seeks to prolong it.  He resisted the urge to administer the first strike and instead forcefully pushed Ramona headfirst onto the mattress, and before she could react, buried himself to the hilt inside her.

          “Morris!”  Ramona laughed giddily as he gripped her hips and began to stroke furiously, “I had no idea you could be so aggressive!”

 

          But Morris could not respond.  Every nerve in his body was engaged in this wanton act of carnality and Ramona did nothing to abate his lust, but instead egged him on to the point where he was no longer aware of time or consequences.  When he finally peaked toward orgasm, he could no longer restrain his bloodlust and with strength he had never before possessed, he dragged Ramona from her prone position returning them to their original pose and sank his fully engaged fleams into his willing victim and mentor.

 

          “That’s it.  Breathe long easy breaths.  The drawback is more effective that way,” Ramona sighed in time with Morris’ first feeding.

 

          Morris was entranced.  Twenty-four hours earlier he was planning to walk by the park then go home to eat a little something then sleep for several hours before waking to start another predictable day of work.

          “Mmmm,” Ramona sighed shifting on his lap, “That should be enough.”

          Morris disengaged and Ramona turned stretching out on her back in front of him.

“You’re disappointed,” she said noting his troubled expression.

“No, not disappointed,” he said, “But are you sure that was enough, enough for me to change?”

“Yes it was enough,” She smiled.

“Are you sure…I mean you wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Yes, I would lie to you, but unfortunately I can’t right now, so you can be certain that it was enough.”

“So, what should I do now?”

“It depends.  With this first feeding you know that this is how it will be forever.  If this is not for you, there’ s still time to reverse this, still time to undo this before you go to sleep.  But, if you’re sure this is what you want to do, you let your body rest.  Let the blood change you.  Go to sleep.”

 “Will it hurt?” He asked as he leaned close to her.

“Of course it will hurt, Morris.  True, this is a new life, but it’s life all the same and all life hurts sometimes.  But maybe this time, this life your hurts will be bearable.”

  

Ramona extended her hand and coaxed him to lay down next to her.  And as she Ramona wrapped her arms around him and drifted off to sleep, Morris could barely keep his eyes closed as he brimmed over with excitement in expectation of the beginning of his new life.

           

          “Sir!”  an Orphan male’s voice cut into Morris’ recollection, “The  perimeter’s been breached.”

          “Is that a fact?” he muttered to himself as he wrenched his foot away from the newly minted Orphan underling, “Where did they enter?”

          “The East lower level,” The Orphan male replied.

          “The same entrance Salinas was brought in through…this doesn’t look good, but we specialize in making the best of  bad situations.  Am I right?” Morris smiled.

 

          The Orphan male nodded in agreement, and though Morris knew he probably would have agreed to just about anything Morris proposed, it was still reassuring.

           

For a moment Morris tried to recover that moment alone with Ramona, one of  the last moments he could recall being at peace, but it eluded him.   

          “Call out a security detail, Oliver.  We’ll prepare a proper welcome for whoever or whatever has tried to sneak it’s way in through our back door.”

 

 

-o)0(o-

 

         

          The odor of the underground enveloped the staunch member of  the Renfield faithful and his Rebel companion as they made their way into the tunnels and caverns that comprised the hiding places of the Orphan class.  There were no maps of the Underground nor any reports of them in the Renfield files.  This was uncharted territory.

 

          “I can barely see anything in front of me,” Leila whispered as they tipped down the stairway. 

          “Then don’t rely on your sense of sight,”  O snapped.

          “I wasn’t,”  Leila snapped back, “I was just saying--”

          “--Shh! Quiet.”  O said stopping short.

 

          They both stood still listening to the sounds that emanated from the bowels of the city. 

          “There’s an opening about thirty feet ahead past the base of the stairway,” he said.

          “You think it was left open intentionally?”

          “Maybe…maybe not.  But we should act as if it’s a trap, anyhow.  Let me go first.”

 

          Leila nodded then moved behind O as they made their way downward in the darkness then onto the platform at the bottom of the stairs.  He instinctively reached back to grab her hand and felt an unexpected twinge of satisfaction when she closed her hand around his and pulled her body in close to him.

 

          They could feel the movement of air from the unseen tunnels and openings ahead of them and could hear the hum of transportation and machinery overhead.  The opening they sensed while on the stairway was only a few yards ahead of them.  O stopped short, silently indicating to Leila that she should wait, there.  As he approached the opening, he could sense a change in the air quality and could hear an older model HVAC system laboring.  Reaching out with all his senses he could find no signs of life beyond his own and Leila’s, so he stepped through what felt like a partially opened door.

 

          His vision served him better after he crossed over the threshold.  He found himself in a long corridor with a dim light beckoning at its end.  Salinas had been there. The attempted rapist’s blood sense was faint but definitely present in the closed corridor.  He backed out of the corridor and called to Leila, “He’s been here.  This way.”

 

          By the time Leila joined him in the corridor, he had moved nearly halfway toward the light at its end. 

          “Something’s not right.” Leila whispered as she hurriedly followed O into the dimly lit corridor.

          “We know something’s not right.  That’s why we’re here, Leila.”

          “I mean, here in this corridor. Something’s…off.”

 

          O didn’t want to say so, but he felt it too.  From the moment they stepped off the stairway something was wrong.  Maybe it was the change in air quality, the sensation of being so far underground, but it was there…a nagging sort of feeling that somehow, even with his supernaturally acute Renfield senses, they were being deceived.

 

          “Breathe in!” She whispered.

          “What?”

          “Breathe in…quick!”  She insisted.

 

          O breathed in a long noisy breath, then shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands in irritation, “What?”

          “What did you smell?” she asked.

          “What did I smell? I didn’t smell anything.” He groused.

 

          It was then that he understood her query, maybe it was her intense, exasperated expression or from how deeply her nails were embedded into his bicep as she shifted her weight attempting to pull him back.  Regardless, she was right.  He didn’t smell anything.  He couldn’t smell the mustiness of the underground, the moldy odor of  ancient wet brick and concrete, the unmistakable scent of the thousands of vermin that inhabited the place nor even the intoxicatingly sensual, earthy-yet-sweet scent he had come to associate with his Rebel travelling companion.  There was no smell at all…and that was impossible.

 

          “What are you thinking?” he whispered back to her over his shoulder.

          “I think someone has dropped a curtain.  We’re walking into a trap.”

 

          O knew she was right, but he also knew that whoever had the talent to drop a curtain, had probably already cut off their route of escape.

 

          “I know what you’re thinking,” she whispered, “But they don’t think we know they’re here.  So, they won’t expect us to retreat.  We should turn around.”

          “Aren’t you the least bit curious about who it is that has the talent to do this?  This is a security risk of enormous proportions. I have to check it out.” He whispered back.

          “Oh no.  I am not walking into a Orphan rathole intentionally and certainly not when they’re prepared and know that I’m coming,” Leila said heading back down the corridor.

          “You get back here!” He hissed as he grabbed her by the shoulder and wedged her against the wall, “I am a Renfield Investigations and Enforcement officer.  I have a duty to investigate this and to report back!”

“Great, Mr. Renfield Investgations and Enforcement officer, and who’s going to report back after they kill us and eat every last ounce of flesh off our bones…your disembodied spirit?”

          “You agreed to do this my way. Leila.  So be quiet and do what I tell you to do.  Stay right behind me and stick close to the wall.  I’m going to go in slow and easy.”

          He rolled his eyes as she broke a mischievous smile “Leila, do you have to infer something sexual every single time I say something to you?  Focus please!”

          “Sorry,”  She said sheepishly as she quieted her disposition then followed behind him as he entered the room at the end of the corridor.

 

          “Nothing.  Phew,” Leila sighed as they entered the large empty room.

“We’re not out of the woods, yet,” O cautioned as they made their way across the room, “We’re in enemy territory.  Anything can happen.”

 

No sooner than the words were spoken than Leila was wrenched away from him, pushed to the far side of the room on what looked like a wave comprised of arms, hands, heads and backs.  There was no time to closely inspect them but these were undeniably Orphan.  Their rodentlike appearance s were The Orphan horde had somehow succeeded in masking itself, rendering itself invisible to the Renfield senses, a feat that was unheard of outside of Renfield and Revenant circles.

 

O didn’t have to think. Decades of training and field experience set him automatically into a defensive mode and the first several assailants fell dead sliced open by the pair of tanto blades that were secured in the lining of his coat.  The sound of Leila screaming was partially drowned out by the shouting and buzzing of the Orphan horde but as he struggled to move toward her he heard Leila calling to him shouting, “Jump!”

He had no idea why she telling him to jump.  There was nowhere to jump to, no reason to jump. But as he caught the look in her eye he knew there was no mistake she wanted him to jump.  In any other circumstance he would have ignored her, questioned her, or been completely incredulous.  But there was something about her face, her eyes.  They were in mortal danger and he knew that even Leila wouldn’t distract him in his attempt to rescue her for no reason.  So, he took a deep breath and jumped.

Fractions of seconds seemed like an eternity as he fought the pull of gravity and launched into the air over the heads of the Orphans then watched as Leila disappeared into the mob as they dragged her to the ground.  Below him the disfigured and angry horde reached upward grabbing at him, clawing at him as he attempted to make his way toward his Renegade compatriot.

Suddenly there was a bright flash and a deafening boom.  He watched stunned as the horde of Orphans burst into flames screaming and running, throwing themselves on the ground, rolling to put out the blaze.  An enormous combusting ball roared through the hall engulfing the Orphans who broke ranks in terror and scattered in all directions.

As he landed near where he had last seen Leila the Orphans continued to shriek and before he could react the ball of fire was upon him. The flames were unlike anything he ever felt before.  They licked at his face and body as if they were liquid and alive. The searing heat ripped through him so quickly that it took his breath away.  When he heard blood-curdling screams rip through the air around him, he knew that the screams were his own, and with all his Renfield discipline and training he couldn’t block the pain. 

 

          As he threw himself against the wall attempting to suffocate the flames he heard Leila’s voice close to his ear sighing, “For heaven’s sake you big baby, you’re not on fire.”

 

          But the flames said different as they roared higher scorching and blistering his skin.    

          “I said, YOU’RE NOT ON FIRE!” He heard Leila’s shout, which was then followed up with a sharp blow to his nose.

          O saw stars, a bright flash.  The pain in his nose for a moment cut through the heat of the blaze.  Then there she was standing in front of him pretty much as she has been when he saw her last, a few tears to her jacket but worse for the wear. He then viewed the large underground terminal teeming with Orphans all screaming and running from the invisible flames then asked, “Are you doing this?” 

 

          “Of course not,” she smirked, “They all just suddenly decided it would be fun to pantomime the final scene from The Towering Inferno.”

          “You really don’t have to be smart ass,” he said as he reached out to grab her arm.

          “No!”  she shouted and moved back, “You’ll break the energy field and I’ll lose the illusion.”

          “Break the energy field?  I don’t believe you.  You didn’t break the energy field when you just punched me in the face, Leila.”

          “So you’re gonna take a chance and bring all this crashing down because your nose is a little out of joint?” She smirked.

          “When we get out of this place, Ms. Romero you can be certain that I’ll have my justice,”  O said rubbing the bridge of his nose.

          “Yes, I’m certain you will,” she replied mimicking him.

          “I think we should move in this direction,” O said pointing to a lighted passageway several  yards ahead.

          “Did you somehow forget what happened just half an hour ago?  We walked toward the light and were ambushed.  This should be a clue to you that we need to back out right now.” She pleaded.

          “Not before I find out how they’re able to do this.  This is serious, Leila.  If they can blind the both of us, imagine what they can do to a bunch of unwary Paradoxans.” O said as he began moving toward the passageway.

          “I don’t give a damn about Paradoxans.  We need to get out of here. This place is unsafe on so many different levels...like a double-rotating pyramid.”

          “What? What did you say?” O asked as he reversed course and returned to where Leila was standing maintaining the illusion.

          “I said, ‘This place is unsafe.”  Leila said.

          “No.  You said…‘Unsafe, like a double-rotating pyramid’.”

          “So what? Is there a law against it?” She asked not meeting his steely gaze.

          “Where have you seen a double-rotating pyramid?”

          “I don’t know. It’s just something I heard.”

          “From where?” O demanded.

          “I’m not sure. You’re breaking my concentration.”

 

          O had a feeling that she was just using the “breaking her concentration” argument as subterfuge but he didn’t have time to delve into it.  Time was getting short and they still had no idea how they were being manipulated.

 

          “Can you hold this illusion while we move?”  He asked.

          “Only if we don’t go too fast,” she said as she started following after him toward the passageway.

          “Towering Inferno?” O muttered under his breath, “somebody doesn’t get out much.”

          “I heard that,” Leila said above the din of Orphan screams as the two of them passed through moving further into the Underground.

 

-o)0(o-

 

Ramona sat in Sebastian’s office as she normally did each afternoon providing updates on company security and taking note of all the concerns that Sebastian determined needed to be addressed.  Her dark twists which when free hung down her back were arranged in an elegant and conservative French roll.  The skirt of her midnight blue suit, which complemented her chocolate complexion, fell just below her knee when standing.  Her leather pumps were, of course dyedto match the suit.  Her nails were short and neat.  This was company policy.  Her eyes of course were focused on Sebastian, though her mind was elsewhere.  Granted, she and Nabil had been more off-again lately in their on-again/off-again relationship, but it was Valentine’s Day and she still half-expected him to contact her.  Admittedly they had their troubles but he rarely missed Valentines’s Day – even if it was just a call or a letter.   She glanced at her watch.  It was already four o’clock and there had been no contact from him.  Sure he had sent her a postcard with the important particulars but still a call, some sort of reassurance would have been nice.

 

          “You seem a bit preoccupied,” Sebastian noted abruptly, the edge in his voice as sharp as the icy green blue eyes boring into her dark limpid ones.

          “No sir,” she replied deliberately keeping her eyes fixed and level.  Any sudden movement would be an indication that he had caught her off-guard and she was never supposed to be caught off-guard. 

          “If you have something more important to do today…”  he offered not attempting to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

          “No Sir,” she smiled confidently, “everything is fine.”

 

          She almost winced when he stood and strode from behind his desk and sat on the edge of the large, heavy mahogany writing table which had been presented to him as a gift from some sovereign or foreign dignitary some time ago, long past.  To the majority of people, Marcello Sebastian Forza Renfield, VI was quite a specimen. At 6’4” two hundred fifty pounds with an unmistakeable olive hue to his skintone, the handsome CEO who had only recently begun graying at the temples of his chestnut brown hair, drew stares wherever he went.  As a young girl growing up it was always a great source of pride that her stepfather was as beautiful as he was powerful.  But it wasn’t just his physique or incredible green-blue eyes that attracted attention.  Frankly, it was the whole package…everything about him.  Sebastian was in command of nearly every facet of his life and every facet of every life of every member of the family and he took that responsibility seriously.  He didn’t like surprises except on his birthday and never second-guessed his own intuition and it was apparent that at that moment, his intuition was telling him that Ramona was not offering her full and undivided attention to the tasks at hand.

 

          Sebastian cocked his head to one side, watching her every move… the way he always did when he was being sincere.  It was involuntary.  Only a few people ever saw him do it, so she kept this rather important “tell” to herself.  He sat in silence, with eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked as he leaned toward her, his hands folded…a signal that he was prepared to do more listening than talking.

 

Well, of course she wanted to talk about it… just not with him.

 

          “No, I have nothing to talk about.  You have my complete and undivided attention.” Ramona said.

          “Really?  Well a few moments ago when I suggested that an assassination team be dispatched to eliminate your mother on the twenty-second of next month, you said, “That would be fine.’”

          “I did not!” Ramona exclaimed, “Did I?”

          Sebastian laughed, “Ramona, it’s clear.  You’re distracted.  What is it?”

          “It’s not really a business issue so don’t worry.” She replied.

          “And I’m not in business mode.  See…I’m out from behind the desk.” He cajoled.

          Now Ramona realized that once Sebastian took interest, he wasn’t going anywhere until he solved the problem.  So, she knew she had to come up with a problem…not her real problem, but an identifiable problem to keep him occupied.

          “Well…you know today is Valentine’s Day.”

          “Yes I do.”

          “And you know that…well…It’s Graham.”

          “Graham?” Sebastian asked.

          “Every year the Alpha team does the rounds with Graham on Valentine’s Day.  We start with dinner at eight o’clock then visit each and every Renfield Club in the tri-state area which usually takes us up to about six or seven in the morning.  And don’t get me wrong.  I’m usually fine with it.  But this year I’ve got to monitor outside counsel in three trials on two different continents in the coming weeks each with several million dollars in jeopardy and I have meetings all day tomorrow.  I just don’t see how I can do the rounds this year.”

          “Well if you’re so busy just tell him that you can’t make it.”

          “Right.  Then I’ll have to deal with his ‘nobody loves me, I work so hard but no one cares.  I am so misunderstood and underappreciated’ attitude for an entire year.  In the grand scheme of things bowing out hardly seems worth it.”

          “Look,” Sebastian smiled, “Graham is the closest thing you’ve ever had to a big brother and this day…Valentine’s Day is special for him.  Let’s face it, if there ever was an incarnation of Eros in the Paradox, Graham would be it.”

          Ramona returned Sebastian’s smile and nodded, “I’ll admit, Graham has definitely elevated sensuality to an unmatched level of play.” 

“And you know he spends the majority of his time diminishing the effect he’s capable of having on others.  We all know that this is one of the few occasions  where all of Graham’s charms can flow at full strength without raising too many eyebrows.”

“I know, but does it have to be all night?” Ramona grumbled.

“Be a good sport.  This is the one day when all of Graham’s myriad admirers have an opportunity to openly show their devotion without being singled out unnecessarily--” 

“--While the rest of Alpha Team gets to manage crowd control.”

          “Ramona, it can’t be all that bad.  You can’t give him one day out of the year?”

Ramona sighed, “I guess I can designate someone to sit in on the meetings for me tomorrow.  Of course I’ll have to spend the entire next day reading notes to bone up on everything--”

“—Well there you are.  Problem solved,” Sebastian smiled, “Besides you know what they say about all work and no play.  So have fun.  That’s an order.”

“Yes, daddy.” Ramona smiled rolling her eyes playfully.

“So now that we’re done addressing your personal emergency, can we get back to work?”  Sebastian asked as he strolled back behind his desk.

“You have my undivided attention, sir.”  Ramona said as she stole a quick glance at her watch then refocused her attention on Sebastian.  Time was flying by but she’d have to deal with her personal problems, later.

 

-o)0(o-

 

          The wails of the Orphans had faded a long time ago but O thought it best that Leila maintain the illusion while they made their way deeper into the Orphan stronghold.

          “I can’t keep this up forever, you know?”  Leila complained as they took yet another turn down yet another passageway.

          “We’re getting close to something. I can feel it.”  O said.

          “Well, I can feel it too and the feeling I’m getting is that we should turn around and run for the nearest exit.”

         

          O stopped in his tracks and looked at Leila with a somber expression. “Listen, Leila I think you’ve probably gone far enough.  Right now your illusion is holding.  So I think you should probably get out of here.”

          “I should probably get out?!” Leila’s voice rose to a high pitched whine as her mouth dropped open so wide her chin could have hit the floor, “You’ve got to be kidding me.  Didn’t I suggest that over half an hour ago?  You’ve had me walk halfway to China and now you’re deciding that I should probably go?  Are you always such a complete moron?”

          “A moron?  I’m trying to save you life!”  O hissed.

          “You’re a Renfield Enforcement Officer.  I hack computers and make exquisite handmade gift items for a living.  How long do you think I’d last if my illusion fails?”

          “Why do you think I’m telling you to leave, now.”

          “Oh, I don’t know…So you don’t have to feel responsible when they kill me?”

          “Leila, why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

 

          “It’s a Renfield female thing,” an unfamiliar voice chimed in, “It’s in their blood.”

 

          And then just as they had been ambushed before they looked up and found themselves surrounded by a contingent of Orphans who appeared to have materialized out of thin air.  They stood near but not too closely.  O, in traditional Enforcement Officer style had immediately assessed the situation and found the circumstances of this ambush to be markedly different.  This time instead of a horde of  misshapen Orphan rats, it was a small well-armed coterie. Regardless as to their weaponry they were still affected by the strength of Leila’a illusion and backed away from the flames, but all weapons remained trained on him.  He looked over the small band and marveled that but for his unusually keen Renfield senses they could easily each be taken for run of the mill Paradoxans.  They were led by a man of medium height, weight and build.  He was obviously the one that had spoken. 

 

          O spluttered in frustration, “H- how?” 

          “How what,” the man asked, “How did we manage to steal up on a Renfield Enforcement Officer?  Or how did we see through your little illusion?”  He turned to Leila, “It’s a very nice trick.  One day I would like very much to know how you do it.”

          “Not likely,”  Leila said.

          “Well you certainly can’t blame a supreme ruler for trying,” his eyes twinkled as he smiled.

          “Morris Priestley, I presume,”  O said with some edge to his voice.

          “In the flesh,” Morris replied as he moved toward where the two intruders stood.  He scrutinized O carefully then said, “You are very much like him, aren’t you?”

          “To whom are you referring?”  O responded in as formal and detached a manner as possible.

          Morris smiled, “He would probably have asked that too.  You both must have grown up in a very strict, very formal home.”

          “What in the world is he talking about?” Leila whispered.

          “I have no idea,” O replied.

          “You know, you can tell her to stop doing that at any time.  She’s just making herself tired.  I can see through her bubble.”  Morris said indicating at Leila who was for anyone else in the room still presenting as a swirling ball of flames.

          “And if she ‘stops doing that’ your little band of merry men will in all probability shoot us dead on the spot.” O replied.

          “We can shoot you dead on the spot, right now.” Morris said, now standing mere inches in front of O, “and it wouldn’t take too many shots for them to find your friend inside her illusion bubble.  I’m sure she could hold off an attack for quite a while, but eventually…”  Then Morris shrugged.

 

          O was sure of himself.  Alone he could have taken half of them with no problem.  The other half with some difficulty, but with the wild card of Leila’s safety in the balance he wasn’t certain.  The one thing he was certain of though was that they would already be dead if that’s what Morris Priestley had wanted.

 

          “You haven’t killed us yet, Priestley so that must mean you want something.”

          “Renfields.  Always straight to the heart of the matter.  No time for banter or pleasantries.”  Morris sighed and shook his head wearily.

          “So there is something you want.”

          “Maybe,” Morris replied, “I’m just not certain that you can get it and even if you could, I’m not so certain that you would.”

          “Try me,” O said.

          Morris smiled broadly, “Oh yes, you are very much like him.”  Morris said as he slowly circled O.

          “All right,”  Morris said, “I can’t concentrate with all that swirling and bubbling. She has got to stop that…and if she stops I promise not to cause you any undue harm.”

          “And I’m supposed to trust you?” O huffed.

          “Well, as you so aptly pointed out…I haven’t killed you, yet.”

 

          O looked back at Leila and nodded.  She nodded in response then the flames began to slowly dissipate then disappeared altogether.  As soon as Leila became apparent to them half the weapons that had been trained on O were now locked on Leila.  Morris then lost all interest in O and slowly walked to where Leila was standing.  His eyes narrowed as he sniffed the air around her.  Then suddenly from nowhere he slapped Leila across the face so hard that she buckled and fell to the ground.  Before O could lift a finger to assist her, he was beset by armed Orphan guards and immobilized.  He called out to Morris but he was completely focused on Leila and circled her as she drew up onto her hands and knees.

 

          “So what are you?”  Morris asked as she pulled herself up from the floor, dabbing at the drop of blood that ran from her nose.

          “What business is it of yours?” She responded.

 

          The comment was met with another slap across her face which rocked her for a moment but she remained standing.  Then she smiled, blood now staining her teeth, “I’m a Renfield Rebel.”

          “A Renfield Rebel?”  Morris laughed cruelly, “That’s what you’re calling yourselves these days?”  He took another whiff of the air around her. “Does the word ‘loyalty’ mean anything to you…anything at all?”

          “I know what’s important in my life.” She answered staring him in the eye.

          “I’ll bet you do,” Morris said, then turned his attention to O as he struggled against his captors.      “I’d like to speak to Ramona.”

          “What?”  O asked incredulous. “You’ve got to be out of your mind.  You’re an Orphan…an Orphan menace.  There is no way that I’m taking you to speak to Ramona.”

          “Of course not!”  Morris exclaimed with a flourish, “You’ll have to bring her here.”

          “That will never happen,” O said.

          “Hmmm,” Morris pondered out loud, “I thought you might say that.  Ordinarily I would probably just wait for another opportunity but my business...” He winked at Leila, “…Is rather pressing.”

 

          Morris motioned to two of the armed men standing near him, “Our Renfield Officer guest is having some trouble making up his mind.  Maybe his friend can convince him.”

 

          The first man grabbed Leila pulling her arms behind her back.  The second wielding a metal pipe moved in front of her and with not one iota of malice on his face, swung the pipe as hard as he could bringing it down sharply right above her right knee.  O was horrified as the blood soaked through her jeans where the pipe made contact and burst through her skin.  Leila’s scream filled the room with a buzzing so loud and electric that even the Orphans who surrounded her shuddered in fear.  O’s own eyes misted as Leila tried to pull away but was caught up by her captors.  The only person seemingly unaffected was Morris who, after the shrieks died down to moans and tears, said the to two men, “If our Officer friend has not made the proper decision in the next five minutes, break the other knee.  And if he is still recalcitrant after that,  begin on her hands, then hips, shoulders and collarbone.  Is that clear?”

 

          The two Orphan followers nodded dutifully.   

 

          “Then, if he still hasn’t come around…?  Start over again.”  Then he spoke directly to O, “Once you make the right decision, and I know you will, you’ll have one hour to get Ramona here.  Otherwise, they start without you.”

 

Without another word, the Orphans who had immobilized O and the two who held Leila, began to unceremoniously tow them down the corridor.  Try as she might Leila couldn’t hold back her cries of pain as she was dragged and forcibly dumped into a darkened room that looked much like a meat locker.   Treated a little less hostilely, O was thrown in after her.

 

          “Are you all right?  How bad is it?”  He asked as he dropped onto the floor beside Leila and tried to gauge how badly her knee was broken.   

          “Just, don’t touch it, okay?”  She said through clenched teeth.

          ‘Okay,” he replied as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears and blood off her face.

          “Monogrammed?”  She smirked through the pain.

          “It was a gift,” he said softly remembering when Mirelle gave the box of beautifully embroidered pocket squares to him three years earlier.

“Looks pretty expensive…probably from a woman.  What in the world did you give her to justify getting this?  What was it…your birthday?  Anniversary?” 

 

O’s face froze.  As he looked back, he recalled that Mirelle often gave him gifts for no reason at all.  She’d sometimes say she saw something in a store window and thought of him or that she saw a man wearing something that she thought would look great on him. As he thought about it, he didn’t recall ever buying anything for Mirelle except the obligatory birthday gift or anniversary gift.  In fact he couldn’t even recall having bought her a gift for Valentine’s Day during the entire time they were together.  His every waking moment was consumed with rising through the Renfield ranks, and making the Alpha team.  Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to him that the break up between he and Mirelle was probably his fault.

          “If either of us is going to have that look on their face it should be me, since I was the one who got my knee bashed in,” Leila said, but very gently so much so that O looked over at her surprised.

          “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

          “No, not bad memories…actually good memories of her but not so good memories of me.  I could have done better…a lot better.”

          “Well, maybe next time.  We all make mistakes.  We just have to work on not making the same mistakes over and over again, right?”

          “Yeah…right,” he nodded.  “Look Leila, I don’t have a lot of time for decision-making and I’m not going to turn Ramona over to a mob of crazed Orphans.” 

          “I understand,”  Leila said not betraying any emotion.                                                                                                                                                       “But, they won’t know that when I tell them that I’m going to get her.”

          “So, you’re leaving me here company man?”  Leila asked trying to sound unfazed.

          “He wants Ramona here and you know he’s not overstating what he’ll do.”

          “Do you know what happens to your soul? A Renfield soul if they take you?” She asked as the tears ran down her face? “They shred it like it was paper, until there’s nothing there, nothing left at all.”

          “Shhh,” he whispered as he took her in his arms, “You know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

          “Oh, you mean anything else?”  She asked motioning toward her battered knee.

          “I know and I’m sorry.  Just give me a chance to fix this…to make it right.”

          “Maybe we should just fight them.  It’s better to go out fighting.  At least we keep our souls.” She said flatly.

“I know what I can do,” O sighed, “And I know what you can do, but it won’t be enough.  We need help. I can get us help. Thirty minutes is more than enough time, but I have to go, now.”

“You know they’ll kill me while you’re gone,” She said quietly wiping her eyes.

“They won’t kill you.  Just sit back and close your eyes.”

“Great you’re gonna kill  me before you go.”

“I’m not going to kill you!” He hissed, “Just close your eyes and be calm.  I’m going to give you a thought.”

“Give me a thought?!” Leila moaned, “You said you didn’t know how to do it.”

“I never said I didn’t know how, I just said that I don’t do it, as a rule.”

“Wow, and you’re going to break your rule for little old me?”  She batted her eyelashes.

“Maybe killing you isn’t such a bad idea, after all.” he griped, “Now really, you have to be quiet and keep your eyes closed.”

 

O took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead.

 

“Ohhhh…my…..god…..” she gasped, “You’ve been  there.  You’ve been to the homeworld.”

“I was born there,” he smiled, “ And I promise you Leila if you do what I say and we get out of this I will take you there.”

          “Me, a lowly Renfield rebel?  Somehow I don’t think corporate immigration is going to rubber stamp that endorsement.”

          “So now you doubt me?”  O replied.

         

          Leila’s eyes flew open breaking the link then she smiled, “Company man there are lots of  things about you I don’t like, but even I could never doubt your sense of conviction,” but then her eyes darkened and she whispered, “Understand, it’s enough for you to give your ‘say-so’.  Don’t give your word, not on going to the homeworld, and not on getting me out of here.”

          “You don’t believe I can get you out?”

          “I believe you can, but not at the risk of these Orphans surviving.  They can do things I never thought possible and especially not to a Renfield Enforcement officer.”

          “Don’t worry about this,” O said, “As soon as you’re out of here we’ll send a clean-up crew.  It’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

          “Listen to me, you get as far from this place as you can.  And when you do, you better tell your supervisors to set off  a bomb down here.  Make this place  radioactive. Seal it off, forever.  What’s going on down here should never see the light of day--”

          “--It won’t,” he said resolutely.

          “Think about it.  If you call corporate now and strike while they’re waiting for you to get back here with Ramona, you’ll catch them off guard. It’ll be a clean job.  No muss no fuss.”

          “You talk like a crazy person, you know that,” he said as he tapped on the door to let the guards know that he was ready to leave.

          “Keep happy thoughts,” he winked as he left the cell displaying a helluva lot more confidence than he felt.

          “Don’t worry about me, Company man,” she called after him when they opened the door, “I’ll be waiting right here.”

          When O was led to the edge of the underground he did not walk. He did not run.  He dephazed faster and farther than he had ever done to get to the street level.  It had begun to rain so there was no dephazing to get to Corporate.  He had to make it to the truck on foot then drive into Manhattan.  He tried to push the nagging thought to the back of his mind.  But he knew Leila was right.  A strike on the Orphan stronghold while they were waiting for him to return was the best option.  If he hurried to Corporate and put in a call for a strike it could be done within the half hour.  It was the right thing to do.  It was the prudent thing to do.  That’s why she told him not to promise, why she told him not to give his word.  She knew he couldn’t risk bringing Ramona to the Underground.  She knew what he had to do.

          “Damn,” he cursed himself, “I should have kissed her goodbye.”

 ~ to be continued

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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