Feral Hearts

A NOVEL

Edward P. Cardillo  Michael Fisher

Amanda M. Lyons  Mark Woods

Jim Goforth  catt dahman

Edited by

Edward P. Cardillo

Edited by: Edward P.Cardillo

Cover Art by:  Michael Fisher

http://jellingtonashton.com/

Copyright.

Edward P. Cardillo, catt dahman, Michael Fisher, Amanda M. Lyons, Mark Woods, Jim Goforth

©2014, Authors

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

Any resemblance to persons, places living or dead is purely coincidental.  This is a work of fiction.

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank Alan Basso and Charlene Nunez for their extra pairs of eyes, feedback, and support.

There was a vamp who knew no fat,

Her maker knew no lean,

They bit your neck and picked your bones

And sucked your arteries clean.

~Edward P. Cardillo

Part I

Lonely Hearts

Chapter 1

Wandering Eyes

Edward P. Cardillo

It took me off guard the first time I saw Her. Her stark white face and black encircled eyes were startling. What was even more ghastly was when I realized she was looking at me.

I was at a cookout in the city in a small common lot between buildings, minding my own business, when I stepped out to the curb for a smoke. Even though I was outside, I had enough courtesy not to blow my smoke in my friends’ faces.

It was a balmy night, a thin sliver of moon cutting the blackness. When I think about it, I guess that’s what was initially so odd about that night. Despite all of the city lights, the darkness was thick, as if it was strangling the street lamps and the lit windows in the buildings on the block.

As a matter of fact, I was looking up at the windows in casual curiosity, to pass the time, as I enjoyed my smoke. I was watching this one couple through their window across the street. They were in their kitchen, and they appeared to be arguing about something.

The young woman looked more frightened than upset, and her guy seemed exasperated by his body language. He kept running his hands through his hair and pacing the room, popping in and out of view.

That was when I noticed something. The girl kept glancing out the window, not at me but across the street. Every time she did so, she appeared to grow more and more upset. At first it just seemed like she was looking away from her boyfriend or husband, or whatever he was to her, while he argued his point.

However, as I watched more closely, I noticed she wasn’t looking away from him. She was looking at something. Having half a cigarette to go, I was in no rush, so I turned my head and looked up at the building to see what she kept glancing at.

My eyes were drawn to it right away. There were a few lit windows with people milling about in the goings on of their summer’s night. In between was a dark window with something white pressed up against the glass.

I squinted under the haze of the street lamp and was startled when I released that the most ghastly face I’d ever seen was gazing down at me with an expression that still curdles my blood at the mere thought of it. It was feral. Wild and evil.

It wasn’t just the stark appearance that unnerved me. The face, a woman’s face, conveyed with it some inexplicable feeling of…revulsion. Terror and revulsion.

I quickly looked away and back at the window across the street at the arguing couple. The girl glanced across the street, but this time her gaze held. She held out a hand to silence her man, who was in the middle of making an important point.

He stopped in his tracks, his face stricken with fear at what her gesture might’ve implied. He, too, looked across the street—something he appeared to have been avoiding the whole conversation that I saw—and looked at the window. Then the strangest thing happened…

They both looked down to the street. They looked at me.

As if that wasn’t eerie enough, the expressions on their faces took the cake. The guy looked relieved, and his girlfriend looked…apologetic.

I dropped my unfinished cigarette to the curb and stomped it out with my foot. As I turned to rejoin the party, I looked up at the dark window to find that horrid face staring intently down at me. It was a face that looked hungry and hateful.

Somewhat shaken, I didn’t enjoy the rest of the cookout and decided to call it a night. I said my goodbyes, finished my beer, and left the little lot. I quickly looked up at the window across the street only to find it dark.

I turned to walk to the train without looking back over my shoulder at the other window, but I felt it boring a hole into my back with its gaze. She was still there at the dark window watching me, but I didn’t dare look back.

It’s like when a homeless man makes uncomfortable eye contact with you, and you know he’s going to start harassing you for money, so you look away even though you know he’s stilling giving you the stink eye.

But this was…different. A homeless man never gave me the willies down to my bones.

As I walked the streets, passing darkened alleys and shadowy nooks between apartment buildings and storefronts, I felt Her watching me from the black. The idea was ridiculous, and I tried to laugh it off, but I at times caught glimpses of Her horrible face glaring at me, seething with hatred.

I crossed the street, searching out crowds of pedestrians to surround myself. I’d done this with shady characters before, would-be muggers, but I wasn’t as afraid in those instances as I was that night.

When She realized I was deliberately ignoring Her, She began to call out to me, Her voice as horrible and unnerving as Her face.

Why do you not look at me? You found me interesting before, She said in a thick Russian or Eastern European accent.

As I walked the streets, continuing to ignore Her and failing miserably, Her beckoning turned to threats.

Look at me, you piece of shit. I will not be ignored.

When that didn’t work, I began to feel the pull on my genitals and on my soul. As I passed dark alleyways and black recesses, it was as if something intangible yanked at me, clawing my skin as she snarled.

Come here, you little fuck. You’re mine.

I drifted a little too close to a darkened doorway of an apartment building, and I could’ve sworn I felt fingers reaching out for me, Her terrible face with its black eyes leaning on the border of plain sight.

When I made it back to my apartment, I locked the door and put on the chain. This was, of course, ridiculous because I somehow knew that locks and chains would not keep Her out.

I went to sleep, if that was what you’d call it, with the lights and the television on, eager to put the night behind me like some bad dream. I convinced myself that She was the result of one too many Corona’s wrestling with greasy barbecue in my gut combined with a contact high from a partygoer’s roach, and that I’d wake up to a new day feeling better.

But it was only the beginning.

Chapter 2

Angela

Jim Goforth

Issues. Angela Rollins had issues. A plethora of them.

She knew that, and she accepted it. The problem was trying to find the appropriate way of dealing with them, and half the time she simply didn't even want to.

This time, however, she managed to thrust herself into the position where she wouldn't be able to keep avoiding them, sweeping them under the carpet, or using artificial means to keep them at bay.

Well, technically she could still do all of that but she was out of her comfort zone. She was out of her own country and careening along in a bus on foreign soil, destined for the biggest hotel in the town of Derosso, Italy.

A hell of a long way from home.

Furthermore, the whole reasoning behind this crazy jaunt was an off the wall attempt for Angela to start grappling with those issues, throttling them and beating them into submission until she felt she was functional again, unafraid.

Among the host of issues that plagued Angela throughout her tumultuous twenty seven years of existence was the fact that she had a strong aversion to commitment; to be more precise, a blinding, heart thumping deathly fear of it.

She killed relationships faster than a cyanide sandwich, clearing a circle of friends out quicker than a floater in the wading pool.

So, being in a country far from the place she called home was the first step in taking control of the issue that crippled her human interactions and left her with a trail of broken romances, friendships, and acquaintances that sprawled from one side of the continent to the other.

Angela wasn't just here on any random holiday. This was no simple sightseeing tour where she wouldn't have to interact with people because she wouldn't understand the language.

This bus trip to Derosso, which followed a torturous plane trip of bad food and worse company, was the final leg of travel that would catapult her right into the midst of an organized tour for young single people, ready or not.

One could dress that up or down in any way they saw fit, but at the end of the day, it was a tour organized as a matchmaking ploy, a lonely hearts club. It was designed to be a means for singles to find love, if not with those who had joined them on the tour then perhaps with somebody from Italy. Naturally, what better country to send the lonely hearts club off to than the romantic realms of Italy?

'France,' Angela said to herself. 'They could have organized a trip to France.'

That was neither here nor there. She had made it this far, past the point of no return. She resolutely sworn to herself she would see this through to the end.

As she sat in her window seat, accompanied by a snoring overweight lady to her right with an upturned novel resting like a dead bat on her capacious stomach, Angela gazed out the window from behind her mirrored Ray Ban sunglasses and watched the scenery flash by.

Angela drifted away into recollections of the past, how she reached this critical point where it was impossible for her to allow anybody close to her in any capacity, why she kept everyone at a healthy distance, why she was an abject failure at maintaining any guise of a meaningful relationship.

* * *

It started early, very early in her life. An only child, Angela enjoyed a fairly idyllic existence, doted on by her loving parents. Her father was a hard working accountant, and her mother was a stay at home, hands-on sort. Her earliest memories were happy ones, full of fun and frivolity.

She could recall dress ups with dolls, sleepovers with her little friends in the neighbourhood, tea parties, riding bikes, all kinds of great things. Her house at the bottom of the cul-de-sac was often a prime meeting spot for the young girls of her age to assemble and play.

When Angela was ten years of age, that all vanished, snatched away by a massive cruel hand of fate which balled itself up into a furious fist and pounded this wonderful childhood into nothing but dust. On the most terrible night of young Angela's ten year old life, while she blissfully carried on one of her many friendly sleepovers at her best friend Carolyn's house three blocks over, her parents were out for their weekly outing. They planned to have dinner at the often frequented Mexican restaurant El Torito, where her dad would indulge in in Tex Mex favorites and her mum would opt for one of the milder options on the menu, and then catch a movie downtown. The local theatre was showing a host of old movies from their heyday in some sort of nod to greats of the silver screen.

Angela was sketchy on the details of exactly what transpired between the conclusion of the dinner and the brief couple of blocks walk to the cinema. Given her age, she was pretty sure the police had withheld a lot of information to shield her from the full horror; both of her parents were accosted by a raving junkie brandishing a bladed weapon.

While robbery for the purpose of scoring a fix was surely the prime motive, the crime violently escalated to murder and in the bloody aftermath, young Angela Rollins was left an orphan. Her serene life was shattered into fragments that could never be repaired.

From that point on, she discovered bitter lessons about family and friendship.

With no surviving family members and none of those parents of the little girls she called friends having any desire to take her in, she became a forgotten child. An orphan. A ward of the state.

Angela was a child shunted around facilities, foster homes, and temporary lodgings. She was a child who became unmanageable for some families and susceptible to the less than hospitable intentions of others.

The reasons for a seemingly wonderful childless couple wanting to take in a withdrawn and randomly aggressive little dark haired girl as their own might have appeared genuine and caring to those in charge of finding Angela a suitable placement, but she soon discovered otherwise.

Angela's experience with the Mulholland’s was the first of this kind, but it wasn't to be the last.

“As a unit wanting to create a strong family environment,” said Mr. Mulholland, “we have an emphasis on games in this household. Family games. Games we can interact with each other, where we learn about one another. We don’t know anything about you and we want to know more, so we will start with a simple game. It is called the snake game.”

“Think of it as a new start for you, a chance for you,” Mrs. Mulholland simpered, her voice saccharine. “A new family, and one that wants you, but you have to want to be here too. You have to show us how much you want your new family. Sweetie, have you ever seen a snake shedding its skin?”

Shaking her head, Angela couldn’t follow the question. She knew what a snake was, but she hadn’t ever seen one, much less seen one shedding its skin.

“A snake sheds its skin for new growth, it leaves the old behind and embraces the new. This is what we want you to do, Sweetie. Not just in the sense of leaving your terrible old past behind, but now in the game. Can you show me how a snake might shed its skin?”

Once more, the little girl didn’t quite understand what her new mother was alluding to, not until her new father started to undress. Shedding his ‘skin’. Waiting for Angela to shed hers.

As she was shuffled through the system in a seemingly never ending line of freaks, deviants, and all around fruitcakes masquerading as normal human beings, she learned, or least came to believe that humanity was inherently evil.

She discovered and witnessed human nature at its very worse. It might have broken a weaker spirit, obliterated her will to live, driven her to end it all in one final act.

It didn't break Angela.

It did, however, send her into a downward spiral into seedy worlds populated by predators, illicit substances, shady characters of both sexes, violence, and deceit. By the age of sixteen, she had experimented wholeheartedly, though occasionally forcibly, with more drugs than most average individuals would have contemplated in an entire lifetime.

By the age of eighteen, she was proficient in a slew of unsavoury career options; table top dancing, exotic and pole dancing, peep show dancing and the like added to her repertoire. She had no qualms with wielding her sexuality like a weapon, utilising it to full advantage to manipulate and obtain whatever she required that was going to benefit her, her ends always justifying her means. The host of depraved characters that she encountered along the way in her fucked up childhood had helped to shape her, mold her into a woman who would gain what she needed and have no regrets about doing so.

They were, however, responsible for making her deathly afraid of letting anyone close. As a result, she had deeply engrained trust issues causing commitment and intimacy issues.

Sex was no problem. She switched emotions off and on like an automaton. To her the act, whilst intimate, didn't have to be emotionally intimate, and she used it when it was to her benefit. It was long term intimacy that created the problem.

Until she met Dallas.

Dallas might have looked exactly like any one of the other twisted, perverse souls that swarmed the seething hotbed of twisted humanity where Angela worked her various establishments against a backdrop of neon blasted landscapes and police sirens. Despite his steely eyes, comprehensively tattooed frame, unshaven visage, and long shock of dark brown hair, he was nothing like any of them, nor was he anything like the string of ordinary looking Bill and Mary Everyday psychopaths she had crossed paths with along the way.

He was a genuine soul—decent, kind, respectful. He was a man whose qualities were masked beneath his rough exterior, and a man who gradually begin to crack Angela's frosty exterior and creep in under her defenses. He was the one who, bit by bit, began to instill in her a shadow of a belief that humanity might have some saving graces after all, or at very least that some members of it did. Not each and every one of them was a rotten apple.

Though he did share similar misanthropic views as Angela for the most part, having witnessed enough of human behaviour at its very worst, he acknowledged that there were rare diamonds among the rocks. Silver linings amidst swollen fat bruised clouds. Moments of good amongst a mountain of shit.

Though she didn't want to let him into the frozen chunk of ice that was her heart, into the tangled maze of thoughts that constituted her mind, ever so gradually he insinuated his way in there. He gently but insistently chipped away until the hard exterior she cultivated crumbled just a little, just enough to make way for him to enter.

In a life that had lost its chief male figure at a young age and then had all subsequent weak, indifferent, cruel, perverse or just downright fucked up male influences floating through it or running roughshod over it, there finally emerged a man to restore some semblance of faith in the opposite sex. She had little but disdain for the majority of the fairer sex too. Her tribulations over the years had taught her that they, too, could be as depraved, vindictive, and loathsome as the men, but she wasn't seeking any redemption in women.

“What the hell is a nice girl like you doing working in a cesspool like this?” were the very first words he’d ever spoken to her, as she drifted through the smoke filled interior of the club. She was a roving drinks waitress for once, albeit clad in an outfit only slightly less revealing than the girls onstage.

“That’s the lamest cliché I’ve ever heard. Besides, nice girls don’t work here. What gives you the impression I’m a nice girl? I’m not, buddy.”

“Keep telling yourself that often enough and you’ll start to believe it. It’s a form of indoctrination that others have made you buy into. I’m not buying into it.”

“Well, you better buy something in the form of a drink or I’ll have security toss your ass,” Angela snapped back. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

“Sure. Whiskey. Neat. Follow that with a beer chaser.”

“Boilermaker?”

“Whatever floats your boat, Angel.”

Angel? Nobody had ever called her angel since her father—her real father, not the parade of degenerates who’d masqueraded as her father.

After a couple of drinks he’d departed, simply slipping out, and was gone, but he was back the next night and the following night as well.

He didn’t appear to be there to watch the girls run through their motions on stage, nor did he seem to be there to get himself intoxicated for he rarely had more than a handful of drinks. Angela started to think he’d taken it upon himself to annoy her while she was attempting to work.

“Jesus Christ on a barstool. You again? Are you making it your life’s purpose to stalk me? Trying to get me fired?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Angel. I’ve been coming to this seedy little dump for a lot longer than you’ve been shaking your ass here and peddling drinks to drunks, so no need to make it all about you.”

“Really? Then why do you come here? Do you make a point of picking someone out every so often just to make their life difficult? Is that how you get your kicks? Lucky me drew the short straw this time around? Asshole.”

“I think in the three nights I’ve been here, you’ve called me every single name under the sun except my real one. It isn’t actually buddy, asshole, creep, stalker, lame ass or any of your other creative greetings. It’s Dallas. Just plain old Dallas.”

“I’m Angela,” she replied, almost as quickly asking herself why the hell she’d just blurted it out like that. To everybody else in the club she was known as Amber. To anybody else in her life along the way she’d been known as anything but the name given to her by her birth parents.

So why now would she just spill her true name to this strange guy who was becoming a familiar pain in the ass?

That was the turning point, the catalyst, that tiny little inadvertent slip that allowed Dallas to ever so slowly begin to work his charm on her, and while a lesser man would have simply given up the pursuit, Dallas did not.
She couldn't exactly say for certain that she loved Dallas in any true sense, but the feelings blossoming within her ever since his presence manifested in her life were strong, incredibly strong. With them she began to crawl back from the brink of self-destruction. Gradually, she was able to separate herself from the seedy cesspool she'd dwelled in and start to explore a world outside it.

Then, like all things in Angela's life up until now, the streak of good fortune was painfully transitory. It had to end, and it did end. Violently.
Dallas may have fundamentally been a good man at his core with all the requisite values, but he wasn't a saint. He was entangled in an assortment of things in operation well outside the boundaries of the law, having some associates of a most dubious nature. He'd swept into Angela's life, and while he seemed to have every intention of removing her from the quicksand of unpalatable things in her existence, he had difficulty in removing himself from the very same.

He had to make a living for himself, so he did what he'd always done, the only things he really knew. He acted as a strong arm man, and he dabbled in illicit pharmaceutical sales to ensure he had a liquid cash flow. While it might have appeared hypocritical of him to be attempting to steer her away from a life he couldn't disengage himself from, perhaps in some twisted way he was accepting his own failings. He was vicariously attaining some level of success through her break away from the scene, and he knew he couldn't quite do the same.

In the end it didn't matter at all.

She didn't even get around to any contemplations of trying to pull Dallas out of the mire he'd bogged himself down into, born into a life of crime with a recidivist father, an absent mother, and petty criminal older siblings.

Before she could even start getting her own head straight and steer Dallas onto the straight and narrow, a shady deal went south.

Dallas head-butted a barrage of plated hollowtips.

His corpse was left with a completely unrecognisable visage. He had to be identified via means of distinguishable tattoos, as there was barely enough of his teeth left in his obliterated mouth to have dental records provide anything useful.

Angela was nineteen when she met Dallas, and she was twenty-two when a storm of expanding bullets played pin the tail on the donkey with his face and mushroomed inside his head to make brain soufflé. Effectively, that tragedy should have destroyed Angela, pushing her over the brink into a depression where she should have wanted to deep throat a gun barrel herself and blast an exit in her cranium.

But it didn't.

Dallas brought out the inner strength she'd always possessed, yet couldn't connect with until his arrival. She clung to that, used it, and grew from it. Ultimately, she became stronger still, more resilient, and more adaptable than she had ever been.

However, the death seared that terrible fear of commitment upon her psyche like a permanent scar.

Let anyone close and they will just go away. Or be taken away.

Becoming involved with Dallas ultimately pulled her out of the world of sleaze and into relatively normal society, but his death left her riddled with issues and the need to deal with them. Hence the impetuous decision to hook up with the young singles tour to Derosso, a last ditch effort for the desperate and dateless. Or a herculean attempt to battle commitment phobia.

It was through a co-worker, an acquaintance at the bar she was now employed where she was now only a regular bartender, not dancing on stage or any of the tables.
She didn’t consider any of them to be friends, regardless how well she got along with them.

Let anyone close and they will just go away. Or be taken away.

This woman was Elena Wright, the first staff member to take her under her wing on her first day on the job, the closest to anything in the way of a friend that Angela would abide or tolerate. It was she who coined the phrase 'desperate and dateless,' mostly a good-natured jibe at herself.
“You ever wonder why people just waste their lives in bars, Angie? Drinking all night, waking up with a sore head and a pile of regrets the next day? Lord knows, I’ve been there. Won’t catch me on that side of the bar any more. I’ll tell you, it’s not the place to snare the man of your dreams.”

“Great place to find the man of your nightmares though. Trust me, I’ve been there,” Angela said. “People waste their lives in a meaningless pursuit of something they aren’t going to find. Everyone is desperate for one thing or another. Most of them are just sick, desperate freaks. That’s my personal opinion.”

“Hey, who are you calling a freak?” Elena laughed. “I’m desperate, make no bones about that. I’m the original desperate and dateless. I’m no freak though. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“You sure as hell won’t find your dream man in a bar, no matter what side of it you’re on,” Angela said resolutely, beating down memories of Dallas inside her mind. “You’ll only find misery.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”

“More like a death ray of reality.”

Though pretty and effervescent, Elena couldn't get a date or hold down a relationship to save her life, and not for any lack of trying. Unlike Angela, she was actively seeking to find a decent man. Of course, it was the old cliché in this city that all the good ones were either taken or gay, and the only males drifting into her sphere were undesirables, the type that needed to be prodded with a pool cue at the end of the night to get them moving on.

One way or another, Elena had come across this brochure for an Italian singles tour seemingly custom made for her and was making big plans to be part of it. She booked plane flights, accommodations, and meticulously mapped everything out. Then she went and met a man at the library and fell in love.

Elena wasn't exactly Queen of the Dumb, but when it came to making a brains trust, she wouldn't be the first candidate Angela could think of that would be heading the list. She wasn't even certain Elena knew what a library was.

This completely rendered the singles tour useless to her. The plane tickets were already purchased, bookings of all sorts made.

Angela Rollins inherited the whole deal. At first, she was dead against the whole concept.

“No fucking way, Elena. I don't like any of the people in my own country, what the hell am I going to do in an entirely different country with a fuckload of people I can't even understand? No fucking way. Not in a million years.”

Elena was gently persuasive and mildly coercive, slipping slowly but surely under Angela's skin. The money she spent was basically wasted if Angela didn't take her up on it.

“Come on Angie, you’re the one always telling me that a bar is the last place anybody is going to discover somebody worthwhile. How do you know this isn’t going to be exactly what you need? You’ll never know unless you go.”

“Elena, you sound like a bad television advertisement. You’re not selling me on the idea.”

“Forget looking for love, then. How about a holiday? It’s already set up, it can only do you some good—Italian sunshine, food, and well…whatever else they have over there. Hanging around and stagnating in this bar is going to turn you into a bitter spinster wondering what the hell became of your life. Why don’t you open yourself up to some fun, just for once? And, hey, this could be a lot of fun. Could be just the thing you need to clear your head. Get away from here, get a whole new perspective on things. If you fall in love, consider that a bonus feature.”

Every day, the same deal, Elena chipping away at her until Angela finally relented and accepted the gift. She only accepted because of how much cash Elena would be funneling down the drain for naught.

“All right, all right, Elena, if only to shut you up about talking about this day in, day out. Happy now? I’ll go. But I’m not going to fall in love. And I am holding you wholly responsible if things go to hell in a handbasket over there.”
However, the more she thought about it, the more she began to see it as something else, something good.

It was an opportunity to confront her fears and defeat them.

What better way to do it than throw herself into a foreign country on a tour for young single people like her and see what transpires? No point in doing things by halves.

* * *

Angela was abruptly yanked from her reverie, or more appropriately her bleak wander down Bad Memory Lane, by the portly slumberer in the seat bumping her fleshy frame against Angela's shoulder, courtesy of the none-too-careful bus driver’s erratic maneuvers on the road en route to the hotel. She dozed on with her voluminous mouth now hanging open. The open vampire novel on her lap slipped a little down her elephantine thighs, but clung tenaciously there rather than drop onto the bus floor.

Pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head, Angela eased herself closer to the window away from the bulk of her seat sharer. She wouldn't have pegged the middle-aged oversized woman as a horror aficionado, but she had long ago learned not to judge a book by its cover.

Angela tended to steer clear of horror herself, in terms of film or novels or anything. She'd had a horror story of a life as it was without enmeshing it in werewolves, vampires, monsters and the like. She wondered if the heavy sleeper was part of the singles tour, snorting at the unlikely chance of that being the case. The brochure stated young singles, and there was probably some type of age cut off that would restrict this bloodsucker fiction fanatic from being included on it. Maybe she was just an ordinary tourist en route to the premium hotel of Derosso.

Angela cast her eyes around the filled bus. With an idea about just who else on this bus might be involved in the tour, she covertly studied her fellow passengers. There were all sorts, a number of them who fit the criteria and might have been the people she would be spending her time with in Derosso.

Some pretty slim pickings.

There was a pair of young people, probably in their early twenties, down near the front of the bus. From their jocular banter, it was apparent they were rather familiar with each other. Either they had previous knowledge of each other or maybe they'd been seated together on the plane and managed to strike up a rapport from that point on. If that was the case, then the young singles tour was already off to a successful start, pairing up souls prior to even getting underway.

There were a few other young women who could have been there for the same reason as Angela, as well as several men around the same age. Most of these males were clean-cut, short haired, ordinary looking fellows. One or two of them were well-built and good looking, though most of them were pretty nondescript and easily forgettable.

A young man at the back of the bus was more in line with Angela’s tastes. He was clad in a black leather jacket and wore dark sunglasses like her, his hair long and black and tied back. He rested his head on the plane of his window regardless of the occasional bumps and bounces brought about by Captain Careless, their wonderful bus driver. Angela presumed this man was sleeping or trying to do so.

Another individual, on the right hand side of the bus about three seats back, ignited a little more of her interest. This man looked as though he could have been composed of granite. His face was all hard lines, his eyes intense and penetrating with a stare that verged on the unnerving.

He, too, had his dark hair in a ponytail, albeit a small one that only just managed to curl down over the collar of his black silk shirt. A five o’clock shadow darkened his sharp jawline, and he had an Eastern Bloc look about him, one Angela had become familiar with in her tribulations, notably through her inclusion in a family of Romanian descent. It was one of the very few families Angela had momentarily enjoyed being part of, until the eldest brother returned home after a lengthy jail stint.

Dressed entirely in black with pants to match his shirt, pointed gleaming leather boots, and black gloves, he appeared out of place in the hot bus. Like the man in the leather jacket, this stoic and formidable character appeared oblivious to the warmth.

Angela shrugged it off and continued her perusal of the bus passengers, not particularly seeing too much else to drum up a major sense of enthusiasm about this whole thing. There were a couple of families with a handful of children in tow, several elderly souls, and some swarthy local-looking individuals. None of those people were bound to be part of a young singles tour.

Slim pickings indeed.

The hopeful love match expedition. The desperate and dateless. Lonely hearts club.

So, baby steps. Damn baby steps. One issue at a time. Really, if this was to be considered a baby step, it was one hell of a big one. A huge baby step. Fucking enormous.

In a foreign country if things went ass up, she was going to have to rely on other people, learn to trust them to some extent.

Way to throw yourself in at the deep end, Angie, she chided herself.

Distracted and perturbed by the whole thing, Angela didn't even realise that the bus was at long last pulling up to a stop outside the hotel.

Chapter 3

Jamie

Amanda M. Lyons

Jamie looked out the window of the airplane, taking in his first flight with a surprising amount of calm and stability. He wasn’t normally the kind of guy you’d expect to feel at home in the air, but that’s just how he felt. He’d always assumed he’d be bouncing off of the walls or balled up in an aisle seat trying not to touch the other passengers and sleeping his anxiety away.

Of course, his ordinary fear of heights and situational claustrophobia were the furthest things from his mind at the moment. In a strange way, he was making his escape, running from the life he’d always known in order to build something new, something less confining and damaged.

Jamie sighed, thinking back to all of the times his friends tried to push him toward taking risks, trying something new, or being spontaneous.

“You never do anything spontaneous! You’ve got to get out there and live a little, man! Don’t you want to take a chance and see what happens?” It was easy enough for Oliver. He’d grown up cocky and sure of himself. He was also the ideal of every gay man Jamie ever met and one of the one night stands that always seemed to want to make him fit some sort of mold they pictured when they met him.

“Sure I do. The trouble is, every time I ever tried before I always wound up needing to scurry back to my safety net and recover.”

“Goddamn it, Jamie! Just…you’ve gotta quit hiding in your head. You’ve got to take risks to grow as a person, to really find yourself. You can’t keep letting life get away from you.”

He got it, he really did. He wasn’t the first person people thought of when they wanted to be around someone adventurous. He was more of a home body and erred on the side of caution to save his heart and his emotional state from the kind of damage he’d gotten as a kid.

It wasn’t a life he’d chosen for himself as much as the life he felt the most stable living. Was it just his personality or was it the result of all the things that had happened to him? His best guess was that it was a healthy dose of both.

A couple of Jamie’s friends knew about his baggage, how he got his ass handed to him by a couple bullies through most of grade school. His mom was a nihilist and a shut in who used her tongue to cut him every chance she got, and his dad was a picture in a cheap little frame he still kept in a drawer at the bottom of the dresser.

He’d left a lot of his older friends behind years ago, however. Most of his current friends weren’t in on his history, though he supposed most of them could guess that his high school years were spent hiding out in his room struggling over how to deal with how weird he felt compared to everyone else. In many ways, he still did that now. The ones that knew rolled their eyes at his introverted life, and the ones that didn’t bit his ass for it whenever they got tired of hanging around the house with him on a Friday night.

The thing was, Jamie wasn’t always fond of how he’d been living either, but he also knew that he wasn’t the guy that went wild or just went out and did things for the hell of it. It wasn’t natural for him not to think something over, assess the risks, and then act on the best course of action on his liveliest days and straight out avoid those risks on the days he felt overwhelmed.

He’d never been able to shut his mind down and just jump on the next thing that came along, and for a long time, he hadn’t thought he ever would

“You never were very good at anything, Jamie. Your dad didn’t know what to do with you when he was here, and I sure as hell don’t have any ideas either. You’re not at all what we expected when we decided to have a kid, not even close. Hiding in your room all day with all of your damn books! What kind of life is that?” Dear old mom, always there to make him feel secure and in touch with himself as a person. Shit, was it any wonder he felt so lost?

Of course, it wasn’t just her.

“Don’t you ever get sick of putting your nose in a book, man?”

“No…why should I?”

“Look around. Don’t you see all of these girls? Don’t you want to…I don’t know…see if you can get a little?”

Jamie remembered looking around the room, his face a bright blush of scarlet, and shaking his head. Sure, he saw the girls…and a couple of guys he admired too, like Dave with his tight jeans and spiky hair, all of that black hair framing those pretty green eyes while he told him off about reading all the time. “Nah, I uh-I don’t really worry about it, man. Girls are a lot of stress for me.”

No, he wasn’t going to invite questions or take risks if he didn’t have to. It was hard enough hiding behind books and trying to puzzle out how to catch glances at Dave while he wasn’t looking.

Jamie was twenty-four, of average height and moderate weight, handsome in that offhand way most people overlooked with dark brown hair and pale green eyes, and he was also a bisexual. Most of his insecurities revolved around his fears of failing, getting hurt, or hurting other people in the process.

His sexuality played a part in these fears because it was one of the few things he had never been able to control or think out. It made him worry he would never be able to commit. His past history, which was mostly made up of several one night stands and a few very brief relationships, certainly didn’t help him feel any less insecure about that. It had been his last failed relationship (this time with a sad young man with his own collection of insecurities and, as it turned out, suicidal tendencies) that had finally made him take a major leap and risk a great deal.

This was how Jamie Winslow, self-professed and friend-labeled wallflower, wound up on a plane headed to a singles tour of Italy, feeling very ill and more insecure than he’d ever been in his life. The weirdest thing was that despite all the fear and the anxiety, it also left him feeling more determined to see it through. He wanted to take this risk so that he could push himself out there to see if he could change, and to try and forget everything that had gone wrong with Nico.

You would think being up above the clouds and looking down on everything might give me some new perspective, maybe some ability to look forward to the trip ahead of me, but things are always going to go back to him.

Nico clouded his mind, choking out thoughts of anything else. There he was in Jamie’s head, sad grey eyes looking back, his full, sensual lips twisted down a little at the edges as he leaned back into the couch, exasperated.

“You don’t understand me and you don’t even get why that hurts me. Jesus, Jamie, I don’t even know if you really want me here! “

“I—”

“You what?” Nico thrust himself up out of the soft pillows and plump rolls of the couch, lithe muscles and flesh going taught and then relaxing as he got to his feet. If it were any other time, like on one of his good days, the movement would have been erotic; instead, it was full of anger and tension.

God, Jamie wished this could be simpler. He wished he had the right words for Nico.

With Nico, sometimes it felt like everything was a big change, way more complicated and important than Jamie thought it was. Nico was pacing now, tense, like some big cat slipping back and forth in front of the couch where Jamie was still sitting, watching him.

“You don’t know what to say? You don’t know what I want?” Those eyes on him, that heat and that light burning through all of his answers, all of the vague things he might have used to smooth things over.

Nico knew Jamie better than he had any right to know him. It had only been what? Six months? “I used to think maybe you cared about me, that you really knew what I intended for us, that maybe you wanted a relationship too, but it’s all a lot of bullshit, isn’t it? You never really wanted to get too close, you wanted to keep screwing and leave it at that.”

Nico’s eyes darted back and forth, dark stormy clouds in a soft, warm face framed with dark curls, daring Jamie to deny it, pleading with him to chase away all of the pain and sadness even as his words cut at him.

Jamie knew he couldn’t give him what he needed. He wanted to be that person for Nico, wanted it so very badly, but it just wasn’t in him. He didn’t have that sort of connection with him no matter how much he wished that he did.

Instead, he looked back into those accusatory eyes for a moment more, and then he let them slip away, his eyes locked on his own hands, the fingers wrapped tightly amongst themselves. Jamie wanted so badly to feel secure, calm, and able to reason with the accusations coming at him.

“It wasn’t just about sex, Nico, I—”

Jamie’s face was brought back up by a firm but gentle hand. He looked back into that storm and saw so much going on there beneath the surface, so much wrong that he could never put right.

Why did I ever think I could reach him, make him happy? Why did I blow off all of these issues?

Angry tears slipped down from Nico’s eyes in waves, but there was no sound, only fury flaming in the depths of those wet, sad eyes as he threw his hands up into the air and cried out. It was a mournful sound that startled Jamie. Instantly, he regretted his inaction.

Despite Nico’s reaction, Jamie knew that telling him it was over was better, that getting away from these horrible fights was best for both of them.

Regret, doesn’t make it my fault; regret means I know we both could have done better, that we never should have taken each other on after that first night.

For a moment, Jamie was swept away in the memory of the two of them laughing and talking at the party…

He’d initially gone because he was mooning over the hostess, a tall leggy, woman with long, dark wavy hair and crystalline blue eyes shining with the kind of intellect that always made everything else that much sexier.

She owned a bookstore a few blocks away from his apartment, and he’d been going there for months trying to gather the courage to ask her out. They’d chatted a few times, enough that she knew of him and considered him a regular customer. Jamie was on the verge of giving up when she smiled at him a few hours before she closed up and invited him to her party later that night. He arrived a few minutes late, not wanting to seem overeager, and was greeted with her gracious hug and an introduction to her handsome cousin Nico.

Nico’s smile was bright and attractive, and his clear grey eyes were mesmerizing. For the night, Jamie found that the woman had drifted to the back of his thoughts and that her cousin loomed far brighter.

At first, he tried so hard to impress Nico, leaving long gaps in the conversation as he struggled to be certain he wasn’t talking about things that wouldn’t interest him. Nico’s smiles were met by his own, the sort that made his face ache. There was the kind of joined laughter that was completely uninhibited, even instinctual, and soon the interaction began to feel more natural.

They made love that night for the first time, Nico making the first move and Jamie slipping so easily into the rhythm of it all. It had been intense and satisfying, the sort of thing that leaves you tired and achy the next day. Back then, they were happy just to be together, to share the same space and explore their shared interests.

The sadness and the dissatisfaction had come later, when Nico had started to crumble around the edges, unhappy that he didn’t feel the way he had in the first weeks. Jamie hadn’t changed but Nico’s needs had, and he couldn’t keep up anymore…

Jamie looked up at Nico with the words on his lips, the idea of what he wanted to say ready to come out, but he couldn’t say it. Nico’s face was wet with tears, his eyes red and bloodshot.

Jamie paused with his mouth open because the look Nico gave him didn’t seem completely sane. He stopped being this soft, sad kittenish lover Jamie had grown used to and became a wounded animal.

Nico had that wild look on his face, his teeth like white fangs exposed beneath a curling lip. “Get out! Get out of my sight so I don’t have to see it all over your face!”

Startled and overwhelmed, Jamie fled convinced that this was the right thing. He told himself Nico would hurt for a while, but eventually he would get over it and things would work out. They had to, for Nico’s sake and his own.

Only it hadn’t gotten better.

While Jamie had gone on with his life over the next few months, Nico had only gotten worse. Their social circles touched on each other (Nico’s cousin Erzebeta, the beauty who’d thrown the party, was familiar with many of the same people through her store). He’d hear from one or two of his friends that Nico wasn’t dating, he didn’t really go out much, and he was starting to worry them.

Jamie could only frown, trying to tell them something soothing and that he hoped things would get better. Then he went back to his own apartment, usually alone but sometimes with someone warm and inviting who took care of his concerns by washing them away with a night of sex and sensuality.

One night, when Jamie was more than a little drunk, he finally got together the courage to ask Erzebeta out when he met her on the street. Smiling, she humored him through a cup of coffee and then took him back to her apartment.

He couldn’t really say that they made love; this was a more straight forward sort of sex. As satisfying and lengthy as it was, it was far more physical than emotional. It suited their needs and made them feel good, but they finished knowing that it would never happen again.

They talked afterwards about how things had been since they’d seen each other last, about how her shop was doing then, and finally about Nico.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two. Nico’s so sad now, but it’s clear you’ve moved on and he’s going to have to do so himself.” She laughed. “It’s funny…you know, I have to confess something to you now. I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or offend Nico while you were still dating.

“Um, I kind of planned it a little, your meeting. I knew you were interested but I wasn’t ready for anything then. I was enjoying being single, and I thought that maybe…well…” she blushed, “that Nico would be better for you. I guess I was wrong. I just wish that he was…that he could be like the rest of us, you know? I wish that he could be happy with what life is, what it offers instead of always wanting everything to be so—I don’t know—intense. I guess that sounds pretty stupid with us, um, with us here right now, under the circumstances.”

Jamie smiled a little self-consciously, feeling a little morose about the lack of intimacy between them and now talking about Nico. “Yeah, I-I wish things had gone differently, too.”

“Oh shit, I’ve upset you by telling you about what I did at the party, haven’t I?” There’s no self-consciousness in her, only a sort of curiosity and a touch of concern. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed a little to himself, pulling the sheet up to his waist and then letting his head fall back against the headboard. She didn’t see it, but a tear slipped down from one eye. He was embarrassed, annoyed, and would’ve liked nothing more than to get out of this place and forget he ever acted on an old interest.

Instead, he turned to her, looked at her, and gave her a small close mouthed smile. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, that’s life, isn’t it? We change our minds sometimes and things happen. Besides, we found out tonight that it would have been a waste of time for both of us, right?”

She nodded her head slowly, studying his face, and then they parted ways dressing in the dark and saying goodnight as quickly as possible.

He didn’t mean to seem callous or insensitive; he wasn’t trying to hurt Nico. If he heard about how he’d gone on since that night, Jamie figured Nico would see it as a sign to move on, to make his own way in the world with other people. They couldn’t go back after all, not with the way things had gone that night and not now that he’d slept with Erzebeta.

In many ways, he was beginning to wonder if he would ever settle down, have a real and lasting relationship with anyone. Sex had become simple and easy, something he could use to nourish himself when he felt lonely and out of sync with the rest of the world. Not making bonds just meant that he had that much less to worry about in the long run, less chance of getting hurt or hurting others like he’d hurt Nico.

It didn’t turn out as he’d expected though, and soon he would find out how badly things had really crumbled for Nico. Erzebeta, the cousin who’d thrown the party and introduced them, who had orchestrated their meeting and then slept with him when it was all over, charged up to Jamie at a coffee shop and spit in his face.

Her face locked in a tight, angry glare he’d been completely thrown to see.

“You let it happen! You let him die alone in that apartment, and you did it with neglect! You ignored his pain, and you ignored what he was feeling about you! You as good as pushed those pills down his throat. You might as well as have put that bag over his head and helped him into that tub!

“Now he’s dead and it isn’t as if you’d care, but goddamn it you’re going to know about it. Maybe it won’t mean a damn to you, but I hope the guilt eats you alive because I care. I care, and I don’t want to see you ever again, you bastard!”

It ran so completely counter to everything she said that night prior, and he knew it. He saw the guilt looming there, just beneath the surface of her brimming eyes. This had less to do with him than it did with her grief and self-hatred. He would’ve felt some sympathy for her if she hadn’t beaten him over the head with the details of Nico’s death and choked out every hope of ever recovering the connections they’d made over the last few years.

“I-I didn’t. I don’t even know what I can—”

She slapped Jamie as hard as she could, the full brunt of her 158 pound body slamming into his face and throwing off his balance. She turned and left before he could say anything else. She knew very well that her words would sink down into his very being, that they would haunt him and eat him alive. She also knew that shutting him out of her life like that would leave him thrown and struggling to cope.

It was just the sort of thing Nico would have done.

Jamie went back to his table and gathered his notebook and pens, fleeing the many eyes locked on him trying to puzzle out what he’d done. He already decided never to come back to the shop by the time he was rushing out the door.

A couple of hours and many blocks of stressed out walking later, he went home, got drunk, and dwelled on it all. How many mistakes had he made since that night? How many ways did he fail to look out for his own best interests as much as he ignored the other people involved? Could he have done anything differently? Would it have mattered if he had?

Over and over the thoughts rattled through his aching head and drove him mad with their repetition. In many ways, Jamie’s life had begun to mirror Nico’s. For something like a month he rarely left the house. He didn’t go out or invite friends in, and he hardly ate, ruminating about it until he decided that enough was enough. It was time for a change.

The next day, when he woke up and gathered his mind together enough to think, he went online to look for a way to escape. It didn’t take him long to find just what he needed in a little Italian town right out of every romantic movie he’d ever seen. It was just the sort of thing that Nico might have liked if he’d still been alive.

He could even see them walking together on the streets, looking through the shops and having some dinner. Jamie liked those moments of peace and calm with Nico. It was a companionship that he hadn’t really felt with others…but those had been the good days.

On the bad days, when things weren’t so calm, it was always arguing, sadness and the kind of sex that left them both feeling a little hollow and lost. Like magic, Jamie could see those eyes in his head again, the dark grey clouds shining and bright as they looked into his, searching for something they would never find.

I didn’t realize he loved me. I knew he felt something; that maybe it could grow into more, but I never thought that it was love. Now I don’t know what to do to make the guilt stop.

He loved me and I didn’t love him back. I’m such an asshole. I’m so scared to try and live a life that I couldn’t even let him have the illusion of what he wanted. I know my needs, but I don’t know a damn about the needs of the people in my life. I—

No, no I didn’t kill him. Things got crazy and went as wrong as they possibly could, but I didn’t kill him. There was so much wrong in his heart and his mind that it was going to happen eventually.

It could have been anyone. It just happened to be me. Getting out of there was one of the best things I ever did. It gives everybody time to forgive and forget, and it might just give me a fresh start. I might even find someone else, somebody whole and sane who I can try and settle down with. If nothing else, I can clear my thoughts, get over the worst of it, and then go over it with fresh eyes.

But—

But nothing. This trip is about me. It’s about moving on and getting better so that I don’t repeat the past. Yeah it’s an awful lot like running away from your problems, but it’s also a way to stop wallowing in all of that misery.

Yeah, I guess it is. I’ve got to find some way to get past all of this and make some sort of life for myself.

Jamie swallowed hard. His throat was dry. A minute or two later, he flagged down the flight attendant and asked for some juice. It didn’t do much, but it helped a little. He had another couple of hours until they hit their mid-flight stop, so he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

He woke to the sound of the plane coming down for a landing. The flight attendants were explaining how to disembark and how to find out which terminal they’d have to find to make their destinations. After landing and a little taxiing, they were allowed to make their way off of the plane.

Not wanting to get lost and a little anxious he might miss his flight, he made his way through security, skipping food, and went to the bathroom. Then he hurried straight to the terminal listed for his flight. The only trouble was that he had an hour to wait, and being in a big hurry to get out of town, he hadn’t bothered to pack any of his books for the flight.

He didn’t like the idea of looking into any voice messages he might have acquired since he’d left, but turning his phone on for a little bit and using the internet or an app to pass the time sounded a lot more appealing than trying to find something to read in the middle of a foreign airport.

When it powered up, he heard several beeps and a few tones that indicated he had voice mail too. Screw it. Here goes…

‘Jamie, where in the hell are you? It’s Oliver. Damn it, you had better not have…I’m not gonna say it. Just be here when I come by tomorrow. We miss you. Look, I know It’s been tough after everything with Nico, but…well, just be here, ok?’

The phone beeped and asked him to select a number to delete or save the message. He deleted it without a second thought.

‘Jamie, I want you to get your butt up and answer this door…’ He could hear hard knocking sounds in the background. ‘You better come and meet me here in a minute or I’m gonna break this door down and drag your ass out here!’

Damn it. The one time I finally take their advice on taking chances, and they’re convinced I’ve hurt myself!

Most of the texts on his phone were more of the same. Friends were coming out of the woodwork to make sure Jamie had his shit together, only to find that he wasn’t answering the door.

Wonder what they’ll think when they finally figure out I’ve left? Will they be happy I took that chance they were always on my ass about, or will they just chew me out for making them worry?

He looked up just in time to lock eyes with that reality TV guy from first class as he marched through with his entourage of airport security and other personnel. It was a strange moment. The man had sounded like a real asshole on the plane, noisy and obnoxiously rude, but he wasn’t bad to look at now that Jamie had a chance to really take him in. Solid build, tight muscles, and just the right features to pull it all off.

It took Jamie a second to realize his mouth was open and his eyes had lingered a little too long. It didn’t seem to bother Mr. Bigshot too much though. He just laughed that sly laugh they all have, and he went on his way. Jamie blushed and looked back down at his phone. Maybe he’d catch another plane to some other place, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness later.

It took him another couple of minutes to clear his inbox. The rest were mostly text alerts about air fare savings and a couple of ads for other flights to Italy in the near future, but the last came from a blocked number:

‘i’m sorry. i never should have said all those things. i blamed you but it was always going to happen. we all knew it.’

Erzebeta? I guess it’d have to be. What would be the point of her blocking her number, and why tell me this now, months after she attacked me? I guess that’s guilt for you…and grief. It doesn’t really matter anyway. I’m here, and I’m making this trip, come what may. This is my second chance, and I’m not going to blow it for anyone.

He puttered around on his phone for a little while longer, and then it was time to board the second plane. He was one of the first people to line up. Taking a deep, calming breath, he got on board making a little wish.

Let this work. Let the past be the past and the future be a whole lot brighter than all of the crap behind me.

The rest of his trip proved to be calm. All of those messages from home didn’t do for him what all of the quiet and serenity of distance had. He was literally putting distance between him and his past.

Now that they were getting closer, he could see more of the land below the clouds. It was one hell of a great view—green trees, vast stretches of woods and vineyards, and the beauty of the Italian countryside were laid out below.

Most of his life had been lived out in the city, so the sight was unusually thrilling for him. While he could appreciate the old buildings that passed in the larger cities below, it was the idea of taking chances that was starting to appeal to him.

Maybe here I can finally stop being so anxious I’m going to screw things up. Maybe things can be positive for a change, new and different. I deserve to feel good again. I deserve to start healing, maybe growing too.

Heaving a big sigh, he tried to picture it now, walking the streets and seeing the sights. Alone and, for the first time, less scared than thrilled by the prospect, he smiled. It was a good daydream and well worth the effort. Without meaning to, he drifted off for the last hour or so of the flight, lulled by a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

It was a dreamless and soothing sleep, the sort he’d needed for months now.

Chapter 4

Unwelcome Advances

Edward P. Cardillo

The white face with black eyes began to stalk me in my own apartment at night, taunting me from the shadows behind closed doors, calling to me from the closet and the darkness under my bed. Her words bit into my flesh, Her eyes glowed like embers in darkened interstitial places. I was trapped in the horror of feeling terrified and aroused simultaneously.

At first, I tried to get others to see Her. After a few years of living in my building, I decided to introduce myself to my neighbors. Surprisingly, they accepted my reasons for not having done so earlier due to a busy work schedule, but that didn’t stop me from feeling self-conscious or guilty for what I was about to attempt.

I invited them over for coffee, hoping that one of them would catch a glimpse of Her and I’d be rid of Her forever. That was how it appeared to work. “Oh, the bathroom is down the hall, off to the right. The light switch is on the wall to the right.” However, try as I might, not one of them caught a single glimpse of Her. “Oh, you can place your coats on my bed, down the hall to the left. The light switch is to the left.”

Why had I the misfortune to cast my gaze up to that window on that fateful night? I’ve asked myself that question repeatedly without much satisfaction. Did I really catch Her off-guard, or had She wanted new prey to stalk? I racked my brain as to how I could get Her to lose interest in me.

Step into the shadows for a moment. I’m going to taste every part of you, from your tongue to your balls and everything in between. Your pain will be my pleasure, your fear my sweet nectar.

At night, I did my best to ignore Her advances. I tried to train my body not to jump at Her slamming of doors and Her scratching Her fingernails on walls. I only watched television, drinking my brain numb with the strongest alcohol I could get my hands on.

However, sleep was no respite. She haunted my dreams in the form of a dark specter with a pale face, always watching, always taunting me with perverse sexual innuendo, raping my mind. My pleasant dreams of nostalgic scenes of childhood and past loves always degenerated into scenes where dozens of demoniac women held me down, biting my flesh, and violating me sexually. I would frequently awake with scratches on my chest and stomach and crimson lipstick on my bare, erect penis.

I went to my local pastor down at St. Dominic’s. I told him everything I had experienced, and he listened quite intently.

“Have you seen a physician about this?”

“I’m not sick, Father.” A statement that, based on my appearance, was ridiculous. I was pale, exhausted, and had lost a substantial amount of weight. I looked not unlike the pale wraith that tormented me so.

“My Son, perhaps all of these nightmares represent a crisis of faith. You need to settle down, add some wholesome things to your life.”

“I don’t understand what any of that has to do with anything,” I snapped.

“Start meeting some nice girls. Get a nice girlfriend. Such things lead to marriage and family, and with that comes comfort and stability. Such things are blessings from God. You could do with some blessings in your life.”

Yeah, as if God had anything to do with this. But, I took Father’s advice and started going out in the evenings. She followed wherever I went, taunting me as usual from the shadows. I began to meet single women. I met a girl out at a café one evening.

Her name was Mary Brodigan. She was sitting alone, looking absolutely beautiful in a yellow summer dress with a blue floral print. My tormentor was haranguing me from the alleyway, so I decided to stand up, walk over, and introduce myself to the lovely girl.

We exchanged introductions and pleasantries, and she invited me to sit with her. We talked and laughed. She was a stunning woman in every measure, both physically and spiritually. We discussed our families and our work. She mentioned that she was twenty-two and finishing her master’s degree in fine arts. We talked on and on, ordering cup after cup of coffee. I was absolutely enthralled with Mary, which only made the Horrid Blight on My Life angrier and more aggressive.

Taunts turned to insults, and descriptions of sexual acts turned to descriptions of mutilation. It was that night, at the café with my Mary, that I first saw Her step out of the shadows. She entered the café and took a seat at a nearby table, eying me hungrily with a seething hatred that withered my manhood between my legs.

I did my best to ignore Her, but I felt Her gaze like the hot sun focused through a magnifying glass, and I was the little insect being burned alive under its power. It was at that moment that I feared Mary would see Her and be saddled with this horror. I wouldn’t wish this evil on anyone, let alone someone as wonderful as Mary.

The thought had crossed my mind that I should get up and leave Mary’s life forever, then and there without hint, preview, or explanation. Then I wondered if that was what this Hell Bitch wanted me to do. Perhaps She planted those fears in my mind to force me to abandon Her competition in this beautiful girl that sat across from me.

I boldly decided to ignore the fears and the threats and pursue this prospect at a relationship. I decided that I wanted to see Mary again, and she gladly accepted my invitation. I had hoped at the time that if the Demon Bitch saw that I was finding happiness in love despite Her best efforts, She’d grow bored and move on to some other poor, hapless victim.

My real troubles were only just beginning.

Chapter 5

Lucy

Edward P. Cardillo

Lucy Ricci sat in her terminal at JFK International physically and emotionally spent. Only twenty-four hours prior she was defending her doctoral dissertation in front of five psychologists who throttled her in the academic sense. That was how it was, though.

“Walking the gauntlet” was a rite of passage, and Lucy passed with flying colors. She devoted the last five years of her life to reaching this moment, nearly sacrificing all of her friendships and all but killing and burying any kind of dating life. Now she felt about it in a way that was completely unexpected.

The whole experience was so sudden. One minute she was defending in front of her committee, a few hours later there was champagne and slaps on the back, atta-girl, and such. Now she was a doctor of psychology, and she never wanted to hear about structural equation models of dietary disinhibition again.

The whole thing was anti-climactic, and after pretty much abandoning normal life for five years, she was left with a gaping void in her sense of purpose. In those five long years, all of her friends had already been working, and most had met “that special someone,” becoming embroiled in serious relationships.

Lucy realized that, as she resurfaced for air to rejoin the living, she would be the proverbial third wheel. She remembered what her mother told her one month ago at the kitchen table in her parents’ house.

“Lucy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mom.”

“I know you, Sweetie. Something’s eating you.”

Lucy tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s just…this is all going to be over very soon.”

“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just…I don’t know…it’s like I won’t know what to do afterward.”

Her mother chuckled. “Lucy, you have that job at the school that starts in September.”

“I know that. It’s just that I’ve always been doing a million things at once: classes, teaching, internship, research. It’s going to be so weird doing nothing for the summer.”

“Why don’t you ask your job if you can start early?” said her father while reading the newspaper.

“Honey…” Her mother shot him an impatient look that wordlessly said ‘I’ll handle this.’ He took a sip of his coffee and kept on reading.

Her mother took a sip of her own coffee. “Sweetie, you deserve a break. Trust me, this may be the last time in your life that you get to ‘do nothing’ for two months. Once you start working and living your life, doing nothing becomes a luxury you won’t be able to afford. One day you’ll have a family, kids of your own, a mortgage…”

Lucy looked away as if the topic made her uncomfortable.

“Oh, I see,” said her mother. “This isn’t about the summer or your job.”

Lucy shook her head. “Mom, all of my friends have their own place, serious boyfriends…I feel like someone who just got out of prison and everything’s changed while I was away.”

“And you don’t know where to start.”

“Right.”

Her mother moved closer to her. “Lucy, you’ve done a great job of focusing on your career, making it happen. In a few short months it’s going to happen…”

“If I defend successfully,” reminded Lucy.

Her mother shot her a ‘gimme a break’ look and continued, “…it’s going to happen. Now you have to take care of the other parts of your life. You should do something for yourself this summer. Travel, meet people, have some new experiences, soak in some culture.”

“You mean find a man,” Lucy accused.

Lucy’s father glanced over the top of his newspaper, looking uncomfortable at the current direction the conversation was taking, and he raised his paper even higher, hiding behind it.

“That’s not what I was thinking of,” said her mother, “but now that you mention it, why not?”

“No offense, Mom, but I’m from a different generation. I don’t need a man.”

“What makes you think that your mother needs me?” asked her father from behind the newspaper fort he constructed for himself.

“Michael, please,” rebuked her mother. He reached out blindly from behind the paper and felt the table until he found his coffee mug. Then he slowly brought it behind his paper fortress.

“What does my generation have to do with it?” asked her mother, slightly wounded by the remark. “Don’t you want to find that special someone, fall in love, be happy?”

“Mom, you can’t find happiness in another person. It has to come from within you.”

Her mother snickered at the authoritative declaration. “Lucy, don’t patronize me with that psychobabble. The truth is, falling in love is a part of life. You’re going to be a therapist, right?” Lucy nodded reluctantly. “Well, your patients are going to be coming to you for advice about matters of the heart. If it is something you’ve never experienced, how will you advise them?”

“But you don’t need to have been depressed to treat a depressed person,” Lucy retorted.

“Oh, bullshit.” Lucy was stunned by her mother’s reaction. Her mother glared at her. “Don’t give me that clinical detachment crap. Soon you’re going to be a doctor, but you’re still just a kid, wet behind the ears.”

“Mom—”

“No, you listen, Lucy. You may have an education and have learned some techniques, but no one will pay you good money to help them if you have no life experience. You had your program as an excuse for the past five years and I get that, but it’s almost over and you have your life to live. I may not be some fancy ass therapist, but I do know that you haven’t begun to live yet. It’s about time you started. Right, Michael?”

There was a loud gulp of coffee from behind the newspaper and then silence. He wasn’t getting in the middle of this one.

“I’ve lived,” Lucy said defensively.

“You’ve taken a ton of classes, you’ve done well, but you’ve never been out on your own. You’ve never had to budget, pay bills, or plan for your present and your future. Lucy, Honey, your whole life has been in preparation to live one. You’re not going to find your entire life’s fulfillment in your job. You have to go out and create a life for yourself.”

Lucy was silent, processing her mother’s confrontation. Apparently her mother had been waiting for some time to unleash this intervention. Her mother waited expectantly for Lucy’s reaction.

“Wow,” said Lucy, taking a deep breath and looking down at the table in embarrassment, “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Her mother regarded her with regret. “I’m sorry, Honey. I guess I didn’t want it to come out like that. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. I just want you to be happy.”

Lucy looked her mother in the eye. “No, Mom, maybe I needed to hear it that way. You’re right.”

Relieved, her mother reached across the table and took Lucy’s hands in hers. “That’s wonderful, Honey. You know, it’s okay to be nervous about it. At your age, it isn’t unreasonable to think that you’ll never meet anyone.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t. Then, one day, it just kind of happens.”

“But I don’t feel I should be looking for it,” declared Lucy, again a little too authoritatively given her very limited experience.

“Ah,” said her mother, “I believe this is what you shrinks would call a defense mechanism. A good guy just won’t drop in your lap. You need to go out there and find him, just like I had to go out and find your father.”

The newspaper lowered and her father raised a sardonic eyebrow. “How do you know I didn’t go out and find you?”

Her mother reached out and touched his arm, and his expression melted. “We found each other,” she said.

Lucy perked up a bit. “I did always want to go somewhere in Europe. I have about ten thousand saved up from my teaching. I was going to use it towards getting an apartment.”

Her father folded up his newspaper and placed it on the kitchen table in front of him. “Once you start working you’ll have the money for an apartment. Use your savings for something fun, something frivolous, while you still have the chance.”

Lucy, getting into the spirit, stared into space as if conjuring up some scene in her imagination. “I always wanted to go to Italy.”

“That’s it, Honey,” said her mother, looking pleased. “Go online and go find some tour. There are plenty of them. Your father and I have been on a few, and they’re great. They take care of everything for you—hotel, transportation, meals, itinerary. Maybe find one that caters to your age group.”

Lucy went online that night and searched the worldwide web for tours to Italy. There were a few, most within her price range. The question was what part of Italy she wanted to see. The country was so diverse—rolling hills, forest, beaches, mountains. After poring over tourist photos and reviews, she decided on the Tuscany region. In fact, she found a tour that covered the Chianti region and Cinque Terra, covering both rolling hills and the coast. What’s more, it was geared towards young singles.

The next day Lucy awoke with doubts in her mind about the trip. Excuses not to go flooded her brain—it was too expensive, it was too frivolous, it was money she should save in case her first job didn’t work out.

Her mother saw the doubt on her daughter’s face at the breakfast table without Lucy ever having to verbalize it. “Lucy, Honey, how are your friends—Amy, Mary, Lisa?”

“I don’t know. Okay, I guess.”

“You’re wrapping things up in your program. Don’t you think it’s time to start reconnecting? I’m sure they’re anxious to hear from you.”

Lucy stabbed at her scrambled eggs. “Mom, I have to prepare for my defense.”

“Honey, it’s a month away. One night won’t derail you. Besides, you know your stuff inside out.”

“I guess I can call the gals.”

“One of these days you have to teach me how to stay on my diet, Dr. Ricci.”

Lucy smiled. The title sounded so odd to her, but it was nice to hear. “You look fine, Mom.”

“No, really, Dr. Ricci, I need some advice, and I expect a family discount.”

The two ladies chuckled as they finished breakfast.

That night, a few phone calls later, Lucy was stepping into a local Italian restaurant to meet her friends, Amy and Lisa. It was their favorite place. The seafood was to die for.

“Lucy Ricci, party of three,” she said to the hostess. Lucy was a little early, but she was of the mindset that early was on time and on time was late.

The hostess scrunched up her nose, “Party of three? I’m sorry, I have here party of five.”

It took a second before Lucy realized what that meant. Amy and Lisa brought their boyfriends.

“They’re already seated,” said the hostess. “Right this way.”

Lucy’s mind raced as she followed the hostess through the restaurant. Of course they brought their boyfriends. They were in their mid-twenties and in serious relationships. Amy told her that she and her boyfriend, Rob, were even discussing getting engaged. Still, Lucy was disappointed. She wanted her friends all to herself, but she now supposed that they had all outgrown that whole thing…well, at least Amy and Lisa had.

When Amy and Lisa saw Lucy their faces lit up. Lucy stifled her embarrassment and self-consciousness and managed to return a smile. Rob and Mark, Lisa’s boyfriend of three years, both stood up in a chivalrous gesture of politeness.

“Well, look who’s back from the dead,” jested Amy.

“Hi, Amy. Hi Lisa. Hey, Rob and Mark,” said Lucy as she took her seat at the table. Still being polite, Rob and Mark sat down slightly after Lucy did.

“So how’ve you guys been?”

They already had their drinks. Amy and Lisa were drinking white wine, chardonnay most likely. Rob and Mark had beers.

“Hey, stranger,” said Lisa. “We’ve been good, even without our Lucy.”

“Oh, it hasn’t been that long,” said Lucy. “Has it?”

“Oh, just ignore her,” said Amy. “We’re glad you called us.”

Lucy wondered if it really had been that long. It couldn’t have been. Why, she just saw them…well, it was…wasn’t it…

“So, Lucy, you’re almost done with your program,” said Amy.

“Congratulations,” said Mark, raising his beer glass and taking a heavy slug.

“Almost,” replied Lucy. “Just finishing up my internship and getting ready for my oral defense.” She suddenly felt self-conscious. “S-so, how about you guys? How’s work?”

“What work?” jeered Rob, elbowing Amy playfully. “School’s out for summer. We finished yesterday.”

“These lazy bastards,” said Mark. “I should’ve been a teacher.”

“Hey,” said Amy, pointing her fork at Mark, “we put up with a lot of shit all year. We need the break. Junior high is rough.”

“Yeah, but there’s one silver lining,” added Rob.

“And what’s that, Sweetie?”

“You get to see me every day.”

There were chuckles all around. In fact, Amy met Rob at their school. He was a first year teacher, and it was her third year. She was a real veteran, battle tested. He was a rookie, vulnerable, his idealism from college rapidly eroding from the reality of inner city middle school.

The waiter approached the table. “What would you like to drink?” he asked Lucy as he handed her a menu.

“A glass of chardonnay please, strained over ice.”

“That’s our Lucy,” teased Amy.

“How about you guys?” Lucy asked Lisa and Mark, happy to have the topic of conversation off of her seemingly interminable schooling.

“Work’s good,” said Lisa. “We’ve had a few big audits. They went smoothly, though. No surprises. Everyone escaped with their jobs. But it’s been real busy.”

“How about you, Mark?” Lucy asked. The waiter placed her glass of wine in front of her.

“There’ve been layoffs in our department, mostly older employees. You know, the bigger salaries, but sooner or later they’ll make their way down to my level.”

Lucy sat there listening to her friends talk about their work-a-day lives with envy. Sure, they made jokes about how miserable they were. Amy and Rob complained about the kids in their school, their complete lack of drive and manners, and the total absence of parental involvement. Mark seemed to be outrunning the specter of layoffs (for the moment).

However, Lucy was watching their body language. She couldn’t help it. It was her newly acquired training. They were all sitting back in their chairs with open body postures, smiling, and gesticulating enthusiastically. Despite all of their pissing and moaning, they appeared happy.

She envied the fullness in their lives. While she sat in classes, the perennial student, they were going to work, getting stuff done, getting paid, making plans. Although she was the same age, she suddenly felt like a child sitting at the adult table, unable to relate to the conversation or participate in a meaningful way.

“So, Lucy, what’s your dissertation on?” asked Rob.

Dammit.

“Oh, nothing fancy. Just studying what makes people cheat on their diets.”

Lisa grabbed Amy’s arm in excitement, nearly spilling her glass of wine. “Ooooh, I gotta hear this.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Amy. “You’re the skinniest bitch here.”

“So, you did an experiment or something?” asked Mark.

“Not exactly,” said Lucy. “I used structural equation modeling to create a roadmap of variables that lead to disinhibition…or overeating.”

Although she rattled that statement off like she was describing a movie she just saw, it was quite the earful for her friends. There was a brief, uncomfortable moment when they all stared blankly at her. This was why she hated discussing her dissertation with people outside her program. It made her feel like such an egghead. It was so academic.

“So,” said Lucy, changing the subject rather abruptly. “Anyone have any plans for the summer?”

“Mark and I are moving in together,” announced Lisa, barely able to contain herself.

“Oh my God,” said Lucy, putting her hand over her mouth, “that’s amazing! Congrats, guys!”

“We’re looking for a place in Williamsburg,” said Mark. “We figure we can swing it with our two incomes. It’s expensive, but it’s a really cool place to live.”

“Aren’t you worried about the layoffs?” Lucy asked, perplexed that he could be so flip in the face of potential disaster.

“I figure I can’t live in fear my whole adult life,” said Mark. “Besides, Lisa won’t let me.”

“That’s right,” said Lisa, leaning into Mark and slipping her arm under his. “You only live once, right?”

“Lisa, I thought you said you weren’t ever going to leave Greenpoint,” said Lucy.

“Oh, Luce, that was when we were kids.”

Lucy blushed at the remark.

“It’s still Brooklyn,” said Mark.

“Barely,” teased Amy. “Lisa’s gone to the dark side. She’s becoming a hipster.”

“Sorry we all can’t represent like you, Amy,” retorted Lisa.

“We’ve been looking at a few places,” said Mark. “There’s a couple we liked.”

“That’s great,” said Lucy, recovering quickly. She suddenly felt like the room had gone up fifteen degrees in temperature. She took a long sip of her cool chardonnay, the moisture on the glass cooling her hand.

“How about you guys?” Lucy asked Amy and Rob.

“We’re going to Honduras to teach English,” said Amy.

Lucy nearly choked on a swig of her wine. “Honduras…to teach English.”

“Yeah, we figured it would be a great way to spend the summer,” said Rob.

“But…I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from your students,” said Lucy, again perplexed.

“Yeah, but these are Honduran children,” said Amy, as if that was sufficient explanation.

“How about you, Luce?” asked Lisa. “You’re almost done with your program. How are you spending your summer?”

Now Lucy felt like she was in the pizza oven.

“I’m…going to Italy next month.”

Lisa and Amy traded looks. They were impressed.

“Wow, Lucy, who would’ve thought?” said Lisa. “That’s a perfect way to celebrate getting your doctorate.”

“I know why she’s going to Italy,” declared Amy, slurring a little from what Lucy estimated was her third glass of wine before the salads came out.

“And why’s that?” asked Lisa.

“She wants to meet one of those sexy Italian men, you know, with one of those manly mustaches.”

“You mean like one of those old timey villains who ties young women to train tracks,” quipped Rob.

“No like the Monopoly guy,” corrected Lisa. “A guy with money.”

Lucy’s face felt hot. It was like they turned off the ventilation in the restaurant. “Well, it’s actually one of those tours for singles,” said Lucy.

“Oh, you weren’t that far off,” said Lisa to Amy. “Good for you, Lucy. Get back in the game.”

Thankfully the salads came and the conversation slowed significantly as mouths were full of lettuce greens and alcohol. After her second glass of wine, Lucy was significantly more relaxed. She could do with a third, but unlike her girlfriends, she had no designated driver with her, one of the downsides to perennially going stag.

Lucy sat in the crowded terminal waiting for her flight pondering the last time she had a good lay. Could it have been at that house party with the philosophy doctoral student…in the second year of the program? Her whole life for the past five years was framed in the context of her corresponding year in the program. She felt like Harry Potter, and this damned program was her Hogwarts. It was time to change all that.

She looked around the terminal and then at her watch. She still had around forty minutes until her flight began boarding, and there was a small bar next to her terminal. She stood up and stretched her limbs, scouting the bar for a possible victim…male candidate for her to approach.

She saw one sitting with an empty stool to his left. He was about her age, maybe a little older, sandy hair, with a square jawline, nicely dressed. He’d do just fine. She reached down, shouldered her small carry-on bag, and made to take a step towards the bar.

Suddenly butterflies erupted in her stomach, freezing her in her tracks. She silently chastised herself. Jesus, was she this rusty? She’d been coaching socially anxious male co-eds at the university counseling center on how to approach women. It was all semantics. One had to redefine success by attempt, not outcome; one only had control over the attempt, not the outcome. All she had to do was take her own advice and she’d be fine.

Lucy mustered up the courage to walk over to the empty seat next to the man. On her way over she passed the ladies room, so she decided to make a quick stop to check herself out in the mirror and make some quick adjustments if necessary.

When she entered the ladies’ restroom there was an adolescent girl washing her hands. Lucy stood in front of the mirror took stock of herself. She cursed her dark circles, evidence of chronic sleep deprivation. She decided to let her auburn hair down, which helped to frame her face. She checked her teeth, but they were clean.

Lucy was an attractive young woman but like many young women, when she looked at herself in the mirror she only saw her flaws. In her estimation her hips were a little too big and her legs a little too short, but what the hell? When she decided no more could be done to help her appearance, she left the ladies’ restroom.

She chided herself for spending so much time in there, but she still had a half-an-hour left and the seat next to the man was still empty. She strode over and took her seat.

“Vodka and cranberry,” she said to the bartender, who nodded and turned to make her drink.

Lucy glanced over at the man, who glanced back. She looked away quickly, unsure of what to say. She looked over again and took stock of his beverage.

“I that a mojito?”

The man appeared slightly startled, but he smiled and answered, “Barely. No mint, too much sugar, and 7-Up instead of seltzer.”

Lucy smiled back, “It’s difficult to get a decent mojito outside of Miami.”

“You can say that again.”

The bartender placed Lucy’s blood-red drink in front of her. “Eight dollars.”

Lucy reached into her purse and produced a ten. She slid it across the bar towards the bartender. “Keep the change.”

The bartender nodded. “Thank you.”

Lucy took a sip of her drink and looked at the man, who was back to staring ahead. The delicate momentum of the small talk had been disrupted leading the interaction back into inertia.

Lucy flipped her hair. “So, are you on the flight to Florence, Italy?”

The man looked back at her and smiled again. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

“Me, too. My first time.”

“My second time, replied the man. I went to Rome two years ago.”

A personal disclosure. Lucy smiled, encouraged by the apparent motion of the conversation. “I hear Tuscany is beautiful.”

“Same here. Are you going with a tour?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “How about you?”

“No. I’m meeting some friends in Florence. We’re going to rent a car and travel together.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Which tour did you sign up with, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Camillo Tours.”

“Nice. That’s the one that specializes in young singles.”

Lucy blushed a little. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“So, do you think you might meet someone on the tour?”

“I think I could meet someone just about anywhere,” replied Lucy playfully.

This time the man blushed. “I guess so.”

“It’s hard meeting good people,” said Lucy.

“Tell me about it,” replied the man.

Lucy extended her hand. “My name is Lucy.”

The man took it. “Douglas. Pleased to meet you, Lucy.”

Lucy caught a glimmer of something in the lower periphery of her vision, something that caught the light, something metallic. She looked down and saw the ring on his right index finger. Shit.

Douglas took his hand back and detected a sudden change in Lucy’s demeanor, but he apparently wanted to keep the momentum going. “So, you’re from New York. Where abouts?”

Lucy’s enthusiam deflated. “Brooklyn.”

“Me too. Which part?”

This was awkward. “Greenpoint.”

“Bushwick,” replied Douglas.

Lucy was drinking her vodka and cranberry quickly—half to end the interaction sooner rather than later and half to blunt her disappointment. “Well, Douglas,” she said placing her empty glass on the bar and standing up, “you have a nice trip.”

Douglas was looking at his watch as his white gold wedding band glinted in the light of the terminal. “We still have twenty minutes until they begin boarding. What’s the rush? I’d like to hear more about your trip.”

Creep. Pig. Lucy mustered up her best polite smile. “I actually have some work I want to catch up on. It was nice meeting you.”

“What type of work do you do?” asked Douglas, not taking the hint.

Lucy looked him dead in the eye. “I’m a clinical psychologist.”

The smile faded from his face, and now Douglas appeared uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Y-yes, w-well, you have a great trip, Lucy.”

Lucy smiled, shouldered her carry-on, and walked back over to the seating area of the terminal. She made sure she took a seat behind a wide pillar to block her view of the bar and vice versa. Her face burned hot with embarrassment.

When she told Douglas that she was a clinical psychologist, it was a lie…technically. In New York one could not call oneself that without first obtaining one’s license, but her little white lie had the intended effect. Men usually became uncomfortable around her when she revealed her trade. Perhaps it was a guilty conscience or fear that she might be analyzing them. Whatever the reason, her career was guy kryptonite.

Attention, passengers: we will begin boarding United 8840 to Florence, Italy by group in a few moments. Please have your boarding passes and photo identifications ready and wait until your group number is called.

Thank Christ. Lucy reached into her bag and produced her boarding pass and driver’s license. She was barking up the wrong tree with Douglas, but she was on her way to meeting a group of fellow singles in Italy. She only hoped that the flight was smooth and she wasn’t seated next to anyone obnoxious. Yes, she decided she’d keep to herself and save her social graces for the tour rather than flirt with anymore married men.

We are now boarding United Flight 8840 to Florence, Italy. We ask that passengers using wheelchairs and those in Group 3 to approach the gate. All other passengers, please wait until your group is called.

Lucy double-checked her boarding pass. She was in Group 2. She watched as two elderly individuals in wheelchairs, a man and a woman, were pushed up to the gate by their caretakers. After them, those in Group 3 boarded. As Lucy watched the passengers of all ages, genders, and sizes board the plane, she wondered if any of these fellow passengers were with her tour group.

We are now boarding for United Flight 8840 to Florence, Italy. We now ask that those passengers in Group 2 make their way to the gate. Please have your boarding passes and photo identifications ready. All other passengers, please wait until your group is called.

Lucy got up, boarding pass and driver’s license clutched in her left hand, and she shouldered her carry-on bag. She took her place on line and began to inch her way with the throng to the gate. This was it. Goodbye, New York. Goodbye, home. Goodbye, the familiar. Hello, adventure.

Lucy looked over her shoulder at the bar. Douglas was no longer there. Good. He must have been in Group 1. Lucy thanked God for small favors. She presented her documents and made her way through the gate. When she boarded the plane, she was greeted by a friendly flight attendant.

Lucy turned sideways, pointing her small bag ahead of her, and she slipped down the narrow center aisle as she looked down at her boarding pass for her seat number: 22E. She inched her way down the aisle until she found her seat. She unzipped her carry-on, pulled out her Kindle, and she closed her bag. Then, she popped it up in the overhead compartment.

She sat down and powered up her Kindle. It automatically cued up The Odd Tales of an Old Man by Edward P. Cardillo. She was looking forward to finishing it on the flight. Lucy watched as passengers boarded the plane. Then she saw him.

Doulglas was making his way down the aisle. Lucy half-hid behind the seat, watching him make his way down the plane. He was about to pass her row, so she looked down at her Kindle, hoping he would pass by without noticing her.

“Lucy!”

Double shit.

She looked up to find Douglas standing over her. She smiled politely.

“Looks like we’re going to have plenty of time to get to know each other,” he said triumphantly. He showed her his boarding pass. 22D. Great.

Lucy was starting to loathe adventure.

Chapter 6

Paul

Mark Woods

I fucking well knew I should’ve taken the plane, thought Paul Clarkson as he sat in his seat at the rear of the coach and gazed down the bus at his fellow passengers. The average age of the passengers aboard had to be sixty to sixty-five, and that was a conservative estimate at best. Paul was twenty-seven and severely unimpressed with the fact that he was now going to have to spend the next few hours of his life travelling half-way across Europe with a bunch of oldies.

What made it worse, Paul thought, was that there was probably a good chance that many of the elderly people on this coach were in a better physical condition than he was.

Paul had made the mistake of glancing in the restroom mirror at the bus station, shortly before the coach had been about to leave. He had been more than a little bit shocked at just how weary and dog-tired he had begun to look. All the years of constant drink and substance abuse he had partaken in were slowly catching up with him, Paul realised. Back home, he rarely bothered looking in a mirror anymore, hence why his reflection had come as such a big surprise.

His hair was now a messy, straggly ‘dirty’ blonde that closely resembled straw. It had always been blonde, but now it just looked damaged and unkempt after years of not being washed properly and very often neglected. His eyes, once a deep Sapphire blue, now looked dulled and nowhere near as bright as they once had been. What was more, around each one of these eyes, Paul had been more than a little disappointed to see he was starting to develop crow’s feet.

The only real bit of colour in his face came from his nose, and that was only down to the fact of how much alcohol he consumed each and every day and how much coke he had put up there over the years.

One thing was certain, he wouldn’t be doing that again in a hurry. When he would finally reach the hotel, the first thing he was going to do would be to cover up all the mirrors!

There were two reasons why he hadn’t gone by plane. The first and most important reason was that he simply couldn’t afford it.

Tired of his son’s wild and frantic lifestyle, full of mad parties, booze, women and drugs, Paul’s father had decided to take action and had cut off his trust fund. No trust fund meant no money. This was why Paul had been forced to take the coach.

Stupid old prick, Paul thought. Just because he doesn’t know how to enjoy himself, he seems to feel he has the right to dictate to everyone else how they should live their lives. For as long as Paul could remember all his father had ever talked about was having a life plan, a set of goals by which you should plan your future.

What’s wrong with just wanting to party? Paul asked himself. Life was too short to be so serious all the time.

And that was the second reason Paul was travelling by coach. He knew that even if he had been able to afford it, the temptation to get into trouble if he’d flown would’ve been too great. For this week, at least, Paul was going to try going straight. He had a point to prove. That meant no booze, no drugs, and no random sex with strangers. Good luck with that last one, Paul thought.

If he’d flown, Paul knew he would’ve ended up going on a bender and getting drunk the way he always did when travelling in First Class. He knew he just wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. It would’ve have started with him just doing a couple of cheeky lines of coke in the toilet to take the edge off, and after that, who knew what might have happened ?

Unless Paul came back from this holiday showing a vast improvement in his behaviour, his dad was going to cut him off; possibly even disown him.

Fuck, this was going to end up being a boring holiday, he thought.

* * *

The last time he’d flown, a year ago, had been on a trip to the States to visit his mother. Marie Clarkson had divorced his father, the well renowned Edward Clarkson, over a decade ago but kept his name because she loved the status that it brought her.

Paul had not been long out of Rehab, he remembered, and was looking for a bit of excitement after spending far too long locked away ‘for his own good’. He’d drunk two thirds of a bottle of vodka before he had even boarded the plane, but had gotten away with it and managed to clear the security checks because by then, Paul had become adept at hiding his various addictions and was an expert at appearing sober when he was, in fact, anything but.

Paul had been on the plane no more than five minutes when he spotted this blonde bit sitting two rows down from his own seat. He recognised her from the Departure Lounge, knew she’d been having a few sneaky drinks herself when she thought no-one was looking, and could tell immediately that she was his type of girl.

No sooner had the plane taken off than he had moved down the aisle to sit in an empty seat beside her. “Going my way?” he’d asked her and flashed his winning smile. As per usual, it seemed to work. Before long, both of them had ended up in the Airplane toilet doing a couple of lines together.

Paul had kind of blacked out after that, but when he did awaken, it was to find him fucking the blonde from behind a few minutes later, casually renewing his membership into the Mile High Club. He‘d banged that bitch so hard, he barely noticed he’d smacked her face into the bulkhead, causing her nose to pretty much explode. Until the blood started pouring out, she didn’t realise either. Both of them had been as high as the proverbial kite.

“What the hell’s going on in there?” an irate Air Stewardess had demanded, banging on the door. Paul had sheepishly opened it and helped the blonde, whose name he still didn’t know, out the bathroom before again flashing his award winning smile.

“Would you believe she was having a nosebleed?” Paul had asked innocently, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I’m a registered First Aider. I saw her from two rows down and thought I’d try and help...”

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the Air Stewardess replied, suddenly coming over all apologetic. “It’s just...we had reports of some strange noises being heard, and we have to investigate all disturbances. We’re not supposed to let anybody get up to any... ‘monkey business’...in the toilets, if you know what I mean.”

“Not really,” Paul had said, coming over all pretend bashful. “I mean, that is...do people really do that? I thought it was just like a myth or something...”

The blonde was gone, back to her seat. One of the other Stewardesses was helping to calm her down after she’d started hyperventilating or some shit. Paul didn’t know, and now that he’d had his way with her, he no longer cared.

The Air Stewardess he was currently talking to was much cuter anyway, Paul thought. Kim—or at least he thought that’s what her name was (he couldn’t read her badge as his eyes were struggling to focus)—appeared oblivious to the fact that both Paul and the blonde passenger had both emerged red-faced or to the fact that the toilet now stunk of sex. She was either stupid or dangerously naive, Paul thought. Either way, it was a combination he liked and thought he could take advantage of.

Much later, after the flight had landed, the pair of them had ended up back at her place.

Kim…or maybe it had been Kiera, he thought now, had a couple of days off and wasn’t due to fly until the end of the week, so Paul had stayed overnight. At her apartment, in a glitzy area of New York, they’d done coke, ecstasy, speed—so many drugs he forgot everything they’d taken now.

By that time, everything had started blurring into one. Paul remembered Kim (or was it Kiera) had introduced him to her girlfriend. Turned out she was bi-curious and currently living with another women as her lesbian flat-mate.

Paul had ended up in all manner of positions that night; at one point screwing the other woman while Kim/Kiera/whatever licked out her girlfriend’s pussy. It had been like a game of Musical Fuck-mates, and one of the best experiences of his life. In the morning, Paul had left to travel upstate and visit his mother. He’d never seen either of the girls again.

That was just how he rolled. Or at least, it used to be...

* * *

It had been an article about him in the paper that had triggered Paul’s most recent verbal assault from his father. “No more money until you sort yourself out and prove you can do something with your life other than piss it away!”

With immediate effect, Paul was to give up all of his drinking, whoring, gambling and continued substance abuse or there would be consequences that included no more trust fund and no more spending money. And not just for a little while either, but forever. Paul had been given Hobson’s choice: shape up, clean up, or face being disowned!

Ed Clarkson had found his son a brand new rehab centre for his most recent recovery. The last one had steadfastly refused to have Paul back after unacceptable behaviour that included deliberately and continually fouling the bed, then refusing point blank to clear it up or apologise. This wouldn’t have been so bad except Paul had started to encourage all the other residents to follow suit.

“You are what we call in the trade, a bad influence,” the Director of this Rehab facility had finally told him. “You have a selfish nature and no intention of trying to get better or curb your addiction. What’s more, you have no concerns for how your behaviour affects the other residents here.”

Paul could’ve argued, but thought that the Director had pretty much got his character nailed down to a tee, personally.

The Director frowned. “You show no remorse, and I really don’t think there’s any more we can do for you here.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you want me to leave?” Paul had asked and was quite rudely thrown on his ear for his efforts.

This time around, Paul had told his father, in no uncertain terms, where he could stick his fucking rehab. “I’ve undergone the process twice now, and both times it’s failed to make any kind of significant difference in my life. It’s time you faced it, Pop—this is just who I am.” His dad hated it when he called him that, demanding a certain level of respect at all times.

“We’ll see about that,” his father had told him. “Let’s see how much fun you still have when I decide to stop funding all your nasty, dirty habits.”

* * *

If Paul was honest, he didn’t really have an issue with rehab; it was more the fact that he didn’t really think he needed it. What was more, all that group therapy was a load of total bollocks. People sitting in a circle, feeling sorry for themselves and then coming forward to proudly declare, “My name is (fill in the blank), and I am an addict!”

No, Paul always thought, you are a dick, a douche, a prick. What was so wrong about wanting to enjoy life and experiencing all the riches it had to offer? Of having a little fun...even if much of that fun was technically illegal? It was only society that brainwashed people into thinking it was wrong.

Just as Adam and Eve had been thrown out of the Garden of Eden for eating an apple, so Paul believed in indulging in whatever it was that took your fancy. In a world where people were starving every day from famine or killing themselves over stupid wars started by religious zealots, no longer sure themselves what it was they believed, did it really matter how many drugs you did or how much booze you drank? How many cheap whores you screwed?

“I don’t believe I am a fuck-up,” Paul had told his father most recently, “and I won’t sit in a room and pretend I am just to make you happy anymore. You want me to go clean, fine. I’ll prove to you I can go clean. I’ll sort my head out, but this time I want to do it my way!”

Reluctantly his father had eventually given in. If Paul could prove he could go clean, without the need of rehab, his father would restore his trust fund. But first he had to prove it!

If he had any idea Paul was only telling him what he thought his father wanted to hear, he didn’t show it.

Time, as they said, would tell...

* * *

There was only one thing about his life that Paul did dislike—sometimes it got a little lonely. He had friends, sure, but they were all hangers-on and soon disappeared when Daddy’s money ran out, only to reappear again miraculously next month when Paul was flush again.

Not that he particularly minded. It was just that sometimes it all just got a little bit boring being used as a cash cow all the time!

His friends were party animals, just like him; that’s why they all got on. The only difference was that they all had less money. They didn’t have a father who would bail them out when things got a little too rough and a girl suddenly decided that last night she hadn’t quite given consent after all.

That had been a lucky escape. Not that there had been any truth to her claim, but the law had been on her side and it had all gotten a little bit hairy for a while. Thankfully, the old saying was true—everyone did have a price. It was amazing just how quickly a cheque with a few extra noughts on it could help make little things like that go away!

Paul’s luck with the girls was pretty much just like his luck with friends. Every girl he ever got with usually turned out to be just as shallow, and just like his friends, only ever stuck around when he was flush with money.

Life was much easier when Paul went about just having anonymous sex with random strangers all the time. However, there was a small part of him that actually desired being in a relationship, and with the increased possibility of sexually transmitted diseases and all, one night stands had become much more risky and dangerous than they used to be. So instead, Paul found himself constantly drifting from one bad relationship to another.

All anyone ever seemed to be interested in was his money. His last therapist had tried to tell him that was why he partied so hard; it was the way Paul attempted to escape all the unpleasant, harsh realities of his life. At the time, Paul had dismissed all that as bullshit. Lately, he had started to rethink things a little bit.

Maybe he was just running away from his problems by indulging in such a hedonistic and unforgiving lifestyle. Maybe Paul just needed someone he could get close to; a soul-mate whom he could confide in, tell his secrets to, without feeling as though he were being judged all the time. As much as he enjoyed having fun, it was true sometimes that it just wasn’t enough.

Taking copious amounts of drugs and drinking constantly helped him block out the fact that really, at twenty-seven, he still hadn’t much achieved anything in his life. Maybe, just maybe, he did need to change.

When he had seen the advertisement for this holiday, it had sounded like just what he was looking for. A chance to get away from everything—all his vices, all his problems, his father—and be someone else for a short while. Someone normal.

As much as Paul enjoyed his rich, exuberant lifestyle, a normal life was one of the few things he had never experienced. Yes, he knew that went against everything he believed in, everything he stood for, but what could he say? He was a psychological mess, fucked in the brain. A psychiatrist’s wet dream, walking in the flesh. Maybe all those therapists he had seen over the years had been right all along. Maybe a normal life was what he had been yearning for all this time.

The holiday was some kind of singles thing being hosted in a small provincial town in the Tuscany region of Italy. The idea, he gathered, was to bring together several young, single and like-minded people to enjoy each other’s company for a few days, maybe find some romance and have a bit of fun.

Paul wouldn’t ordinarily have been interested, but his father’s ultimatum forced him into taking a good, long, hard look at himself. What was more, Paul knew that if he didn’t come up with some way of proving he could change, he might never see a penny of his father’s wealth ever again!

I might even actually meet someone genuine and honest on this holiday, Paul thought. Stranger things have happened. Maybe if he could just show his father he could keep a stable relationship together, it might be enough to persuade him to give him back his trust fund.

This was the most important thing Paul was worried about, but he figured if he did end up meeting someone he actually wanted to be with, someone he could actually see himself caring about, then that would just make this whole trip even sweeter.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Paul had thought as he booked the holiday there and then.

The truth was whether he changed or not, just being away from his current lifestyle for a while and on his own would probably do him a lot of good. If he really was going to try and go straight, stay off the drink and drugs for a while, then he needed to be away from all the old familiar faces. Besides, he had always liked Italy. He had some good times there in the past, even when he was sober!

The only thing Paul really hoped was that the pussy on this holiday turned out to be tasty. Yeah, he wanted to meet someone warm, genuine, and honest, but whoever he met still had to be good looking and fine as well. He wasn’t going to lower his standards for anyone, not even his father.

Still, if this singles holiday did all end up being a bust and the people on this trip turned out to be a bunch of losers and squares, Paul already had a back-up plan. He had heard tale there was a pretty good local brothel in town.

Whilst he had promised not to indulge in drink or drugs, he couldn’t be expected to give up all of his vices. Anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to Derosso with the intention of visiting the brothel; it was just nice to have it there as an option.

Paul pulled out his smartphone. Satisfied that he still had a signal this far out in whatever part of France or Italy they were travelling through now, he looked up the information he had stored about the town where he would be staying the next few days.

He’d first heard about the brothel at a bar he frequented, when he’d told the barman he was going on holiday and had mentioned where he was going. The barman had told him he’d been there a few years back, and the town was a popular tourist attraction for those who wanted to visit the real Italy.

He had recommended Paul look up one of the girls who worked there, an Eastern European girl named Viktoriya. Apparently, she was something of a favourite amongst clients, highly sought after and into all kinds of kinky shit. If everything else on this holiday went pear-shaped, she sounded like she might just be exactly what the doctor ordered.

Not that there was any guarantee she would still be there, but Paul had his hopes up. She might’ve moved on. Those kinds of places often had a very high turnover. Still, Paul’s plan B remained to do his very best to track down this Viktoriya.

Paul put his phone away and had just started to doze off when the coach pulled to a stop. The bus had stopped so all the smokers onboard could get off and spark up and all the feeble, incontinent old dears could get off and spend a penny before they pissed themselves and made the coach smell even worse. As it was, it already smelled like an old folk’s home in here!

Paul decided to climb off the coach, stretch his legs, and get a breather as well. With no drugs in his system and with none being likely for at least the next few days, Paul badly needed a nicotine fix.

The coach had pulled up at some kind of small roadside service area that combined a filling station with a small, family run convenience store and delicatessen. A fine array of smoked Italian meats hung from a hook by the entrance to the store.

Patting his pocket, Paul realised he left his smokes back on the bus, tucked in the pocket of a jacket he had brought but obviously wouldn’t need in this heat. Spying what must have been the only other young person on the coach—some kind of metal-head, Paul presumed, judging from the faded Slipknot t-shirt he wore and all his various piercings—Paul approached, hoping the other guy was a smoker.

“Bum a cigarette?” Paul asked.

The teen shrugged his shoulders then shook out a menthol cigarette from a battered packet, which he then offered to Paul. Though menthols weren’t really to his taste, right about now Paul figured a smoke was a smoke.

As he sparked up, Paul noticed a slight tremor in his hands. Shit, he thought; don’t let me start getting the D.T.’s, not now with still so far to go. It was the first time this trip Paul had realized just how badly he was missing the drink. He hoped he wasn’t about to start hallucinating...he had done that once when he was in rehab. There were still a couple of hours to go on the coach!

“Where you headed?” Paul asked, trying to distract himself with inane conversation. The young punk just shrugged.

“I’m headed out to Derosso. You know it?” Paul continued. It really was like trying to get blood out of a stone, Paul thought.

Once again, the punk just shrugged and otherwise ignored him. Finishing his smoke, he stubbed it out on the ground and headed off towards the nearby toilets.

“Nice talking to you,” Paul said sarcastically and stubbed his own fag out. The menthol had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, a little bit like that nicotine gum you could buy to help you try and quit. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed, and at least the cigarette had kind of helped his fraying nerves.

“Whatever, man....” The youth muttered and flipped Paul the bird as he walked off towards the restrooms. He paused for a single second just before he reached them. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

Paul’s mind quickly flew back to a recent tabloid news story featuring him in several of the gossip magazines not long ago. Some foxy brunette stripper named Candi had done a sell/ tell number on him and sold the gutter press a story about Paul involving a hotel room, a Jacuzzi, and a bottle of champagne that had been inserted somewhere champagne should never be drank from.

Paul hated that story. Only a couple of things about it were true. For one, there hadn’t been a Jacuzzi!

“Uh, I don’t think so...” Paul countered and quickly turned back towards the coach. That was all he needed. Reminders of the life he was trying to leave behind.

He didn’t want anyone else recognising him. As he glanced back, he saw the youth exchanging tongues with a woman from the coach who must’ve been in her fifties.

Ewwww, Paul shuddered. He wasn’t sure what made him feel sicker; the sight of the young punk playing kissy-kissy with a granny or the flies still buzzing around the meat hanging outside the store.

As he climbed on the coach, an elderly woman was struggling to get on before him. Paul reached out and gave her a hand back onboard. The passenger was an elderly woman with her hair curled in a tight perm and coloured in what had been called once in his own youth a ‘blue rinse’.

Paul tried to brush straight past, but as he did, the woman turned and started talking to him.

“You go to Derosso, Giovane...erm, young man?” she asked, rather invasively Paul thought.

The woman had obviously been eavesdropping on his conversation outside. Nosy old cow, Paul thought but reluctantly nodded his assent.

“How nice,” she continued. “My son is Capo della Polizia...Chief of Police, yes? Derosso is small town, little trouble, yes? But still, my son...he not visit his poor Mama. Mama go visit him. Mama have sick heart and…high blood pressure...you, you look like a nice boy...you look after your Mama, yes?”

Paul thought his own mother could probably look after herself better than he ever could, but he didn’t say anything because he had no intention of continuing this or any conversation. All he wanted was to get back in his seat and try and close his eyes for the rest of the journey.

“Move down the bus please,” said the driver as they were blocking the entranceway to the coach. Paul moved back to his seat and was disconcerted when the old lady followed him and took her own seat only one row ahead of him.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her purse and began showing him photos of her grandchildren as the last passengers came back onboard and the coach began to move off once more. Paul did his best to ignore her, but the old lady continued to prattle on.

“Lady,” Paul found himself saying before he could attempt to stop himself, even had he wanted to, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really couldn’t give a shit about your grandchildren.”

Immediately as he said it, Paul felt a little guilty. Fuck it, he thought, dumb bitch should’ve taken the fucking hint.

Obviously offended and muttering something that Paul thought most probably translated into ‘ignorant English pig,’ the old lady harrumphed and turned back in her seat away from him.

Finally, Paul thought, peace...and felt his eyes begin to drift. Before he knew it, he was asleep...

* * *

When he awoke an hour later, the coach was pulling into Derosso. Gathering the few bags he’d packed, Paul made his way off the bus along with the few passengers also disembarking here. The elderly Italian lady who had spoken to him earlier, he noticed, was one of the first to get off and held the queue up for several minutes while she climbed slowly off the bus. As Paul got off, he noted that she point blank refused to even acknowledge him this around. Fine by me you old Bitch, Paul thought and gazed up at his hotel.

Nice, Paul commented to himself, very nice....and stepped into the lobby. As the coach pulled away, Paul glanced back. The youth in the Slipknot t-shirt from earlier, who had slipped him a smoke shortly before he started snogging Grandma, was looking out the window and made a point of flipping him the bird and giving him the universal sign for Wanker.

Fucking little Prick, Paul thought and hoped again the youth would be the last one who recognized him was whilst he was here. The last thing that he wanted was for everyone to know he was Edward Clarkson’s son.

His dad had made his money in the media and though not really a celebrity, he was known for the power and the status he exuded. Part of why his dad wanted him to clean up his act so much was more the damage it might cause him than out of any concern for Paul’s wellbeing.

As Paul checked out the decor in the hotel lobby, he spied the buxom girl behind the check-in desk of the hotel and a couple of the guests whom he hoped were on the same trip as him. Instantly, his eyes lit up. Well, Paul thought, things are starting to look up already.

Suddenly this holiday vacation of his looked like it might be interesting...

Part II

Wild At Heart

Chapter 7

Jenna

catt dahman

Three.

Three people sat in her row, and that was good number because it was an odd number; four people in a row would be a catastrophe because that was an even number and divisible by two which was also a bad number. Her seat was 25-c which was excellent for being an odd number, and it was also an aisle seat as she demanded. The aisle meant only one stranger was beside her.

Strangers had strange scents and germs. They infringed on personal space which was the worst of all. A world without rules of personal space was pure chaos.

Jenna checked her ticket again. She knew she was on the correct flight and the plane was well into the air, but she worried that she was on the wrong flight and was going to land in the wrong country. She checked the ticket again, carefully and matched the times, checking against her watch that she had reset to Derosso’s time. It was the right flight.

Over nine hours she would sit, next to a stranger who spoke another language and who hogged the armrest and threw his seat back comfortably, uncaring that he was infringing on personal space. He spoke loudly to the man on his other side, and Jenna understood none of the conversation. His voice was trespassing as well.

“Can I get you a drink?” the attendant asked.

While the Italian men got some type of wine, Jenna asked for something else. “A Bloody Mary. Can I have the can of mix? And three limes. Please.”

Jenna opened the bag of pretzels after mixing her drink. The three small wedges of limes stared at her, waiting to be squeezed. She carefully lined nine pretzels up on her napkin in three rows. Perfect drink. She settled in to allow the vodka take effect and calm her nerves. She ate the pretzels. Three of them. That left six pretzels and that was a bad number so she ate another, leaving five.

Eating pretzels reminded her of cat food, which reminded her of her cat. She wondered if Cattabulous was okay, if the pet sitter would make sure no doors were left open, and if the cat was fed correctly.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Cattabulous ate three times a day.

What if Cattabulous accidently gets locked in the bathroom? She often batted the door closed if Jenna was in the room. If she did that, she wouldn’t be able to get to the food and water, but she would have the litter box. How much time could Cattabulous be without water if she locked herself inside the bathroom?

Jenna looked at her watch. Maybe five hours. Five was okay. Six wasn’t. Seven was long but okay. Maybe the sitter would check earlier. Jenna knew the water was off, so Cattabulous couldn’t get any water from the sink or bathtub. Maybe Jenna hadn’t turned the tap hard enough. What if the sink leaked?

The possibilities almost drove her mad.

She tried to relax. The man next to her and the man further to her left were speaking in Italian, which Jenna didn’t understand. She didn’t know anything of the language and didn’t think it important to learn since she would only be in Italy a few days. That was the least of her worries, since there would be an interpreter for her tour anyway.

At least the men behaved as they had drinks. Not every person knew how to act properly on a flight.

The trip began smoothly enough. Jenna found an excellent extended parking place and found her gate several hours ahead of time, cleared security easily (which was good since she would have just died if anyone had needed to search her physically), and enjoyed a mystery book by Christopher D Abbott. In time, she boarded her plane, this plane, to fly halfway across the United States.

On the way from Dallas to Atlanta, Jenna sat further back on the airplane and a couple sat next to her. They chatted a few minutes before beginning to kiss. They cuddled and giggled under a blanket, although the plane was rather stuffy and no covers were needed. Jenna gave them dirty looks but didn’t think they noticed as they were far too focused on one another.

When the stewardess gave instructions about what to do if the oxygen masks dropped, Jenna listened, but the young man and woman chattered and played with buttons and moved their legs around and gasped as they kissed more.

Jenna took mental notes of where the exits were and how to use her blue seat cushion as a flotation device. Blue was a calming color and made passengers feel more relaxed. In surveys participants rated other people who were dressed in blue as being more dependable, secure, and safe. That’s why police and other human resource personnel wore blue. More people were hired when they wore blue suits than when they wore black.

The chances of a flight going down from Dallas to Atlanta were about eleven million to one. That was fine for all those others, but if Jenna’s flight were the one to plummet, then she was in trouble. She had already read all the statistics for airline crashes and this one had a great record, probably due to the fire retardant materials, stronger seats, better training for attendants, and improved exits.

Jenna had ruled out that there would be hijackers as a threat, but she still watched fellow passengers for strange behavior. As far as she was concerned, everyone acted in weird ways. No one paid attention to the crash directions, everyone was slow to turn off electronic devices, and the couple next to Jenna kissed.

The blonde groaned.

Jenna shifted further away in her seat, smashing herself against the window, wishing the couple would stop their play, faintly envious that the woman had such an attractive partner. Envy was said to be green. Green with envy. Jenna’s eyes were green but she didn’t look at other with envy, other than this one time, or did she? Is that what the saying meant? Because it didn’t mean people envied her green eyes. It must’ve meant that Jenna looked at others with envy, and she would have no matter what her eye color.

She felt left out. That was why she envied people their relationships and happiness. She wanted to have the same.

Jenna self-consciously brushed her shoulder length, plain brown hair away from her face, wishing she had the guts to lighten her hair, but she worried that the highlights would be the wrong shade, or too thick, too yellow, dry, or false-looking. There were way too many possibilities.

Her hair might look fake. Maybe the highlights would number evenly. What if she hated them and it was impossible to revert to natural again? She knew she would measure her hair endlessly until it grew out. All she needed was another thing to measure and keep track of. Brown was a plain color, but not as without a personality as grey was lacking; grey was dull and faded, past it’s bloom. Brown was the color or rot and decomposition. However, it was also the shade for minks which were not only aggressive, but richly furred animals. Brown was an enigma.

When the airplane was cruising, the Captain welcomed the passengers, and the seatbelt light was off, the blonde and her handsome man went to the bathroom to finish their activities, excusing themselves within a minute of one another.

Jenna was both relieved and let down. She was glad to be free of the noises they made (because people might think Jenna was involved in the sexy activities), but she was also a little letdown.

Jenna kind of wished to see how the couple interacted and what it was like to have a boyfriend to fool around with on an airplane. Outside of watching movies, Jenna hadn’t seen much dating-interaction and had zero experience of her own.

When the man and woman returned from the little restroom, faces a little sweaty and flushed, Jenna made an effort to smile and be friendly. “Smooth flight, isn’t it?”

“Very Smooth. Some bumps, though. Delightful bumps,” the blonde said. She almost purred.

“Oh. I didn’t notice any,” Jenna said. Then she wanted to kick herself for saying something so silly when the man chuckled. No wonder she had so few first dates and no second dates.

She counted the seats again. She used a wipe to clean her hands. She would’ve read a magazine, but she thought they were full of germs from filthy passengers who read them before her. She pulled out her book again but found herself counting words and then letters in words instead of reading the mystery. Social embarrassment was an anxiety trigger, her doctor warned her in her head.

Jenna refused a drink on that flight, worried she would need the restroom and refusing to go in there after the couple had made the Mile High Club in the tiny cubical. When they landed and left the plane, Jenna saw the man and woman exchange business cards, promising to get in touch. They waved good bye to Jenna. When the man walked away, it was with a confident, smooth swagger. He was very attractive, and he knew it.

Jenna was shocked. The couple was either playing as if they didn’t know one another to enhance their relationship, or they were strangers. Jenna suspected the latter was correct. She was very curious, so she followed the blonde into the ladies’ room.

The woman, Connie or Bonnie or something like that, reapplied her lipstick in the airport bathroom where Jenna had followed her. As Jenna washed and rewashed her hands, carefully counting the scrubs on each hand and using a towelette to turn off the water, she watched Connie or Bonnie in the reflection of the mirror.

“Blood Crave, by Delights make-up line,” the blonde said.

“Excuse me?”

“I thought you were watching my lipstick. I love this color, don’t you? That’s the color. Blood Crave. I think it’s a new shade they’ve recently released. I bought it at the airport in Dallas.”

Jenna nodded. “Oh. I’ll remember that.” She took the tube and looked it over, memorizing the brand, even though she had no reason to take note of it. She was being polite. Her psychologist, Doctor Ed, would’ve said she was “being social.”

Even there in the Ladies’ room, she could hear his voice encouraging her to take a singles trip to Italy and to be social and enjoy herself. He thought it would open her up for more adventures and be good for her, but she doubted his advice just as she had doubted it a million times since she agreed to the trip.

All she could think of was Cattabulous, who might be trapped in a bathroom without water for five hours or maybe seven, a night’s layover in Atlanta. Jenna washed her hands again since she had touched the lipstick, feeling it was full of germs.

“The color might be good on you,” Connie or Bonnie said. She took back her tube of lipstick and looked at the man’s business card she had tucked into her bag. She rubbed her lips together and puckered as she looked in the mirror. “He was fun.”

Jenna forced a smile again. “He was cute. I would go out with him.” Those were brave words for Jenna, and she knew she wasn’t the type that kind of man asked out for a date.

“Eh. He was pretty hot.” Connie or Bonnie offered the business card to Jenna, who shook her head no, unsure why she was being offered the card anyway. Connie or Bonnie tossed the card into the trashcan and shrugged. “I have a boyfriend already who’s better looking and has a really good job and all.”

Jenna nodded, pretending she understood. She didn’t understand at all. Even with Doctor Ed’s handy-dandy “words to use for camaraderie,” she couldn’t quite find the words to convey acceptance of cheating on a boyfriend, mainly because she never had one to cheat on. If she ever had one, she wouldn’t cheat. She’d appreciate having someone who cared and treated her well, not that Connie or Bonnie indicated a caring relationship back home.

Bonnie/Connie walked away with a wave, her yellow dress vanishing around the corner. The bright yellow was dramatic and bold against all the somber colors around it. Yellow was a fake color, less dependable than others, and false.

Jenna went her own way, cocooning herself as she walked down the busy, loud airport, ignoring chatter and exclamations to talk to herself calmly in her head. Focusing on where she was going, she counted steps, watched numbers on the gates change as she passed them, and hurried along, completely at her capacity for social interactions.

That was her flight from Texas to Georgia. Georgia was the state of peaches, and while peach was a soft, sweet color, it didn’t have the outgoing, reliable feel that orange did, not that Jenna liked orange as a color. It was too bright and demanded way too much attention.

In Georgia she held on to her carry-on bag and took a shuttle to her hotel room, where she made sure the room as clean and neat. She settled in with a room service burger and fries, counted the fries, and then turned on the television. She had another pillow brought up so there were three.

The window was securely locked and she was on the fifth floor.

Her room was 509 by choice.

“No, room 306 won’t work. May I have room 307 instead?” she had asked politely when she checked in at the front desk. No. It wasn’t available. “May I have another, odd numbered room?” She refused 429. They agreed on 509.

Doctor Ed had told her to just ask. He said that people in customer service heard much stranger requests than for odd numbered rooms. He said people usually asked for even numbered rooms. Statistically, people preferred even numbers and symmetry to odd numbers and asymmetrical elements.

She also collected useless information, like statistics about plane crashes and phobias, dates, weather phenomena, and movies. She liked numerical data mostly, unless it was something even-numbered which was almost worse than no numbers at all. Leaflets three: let it be. That was for poison ivy and warned people that by watching for three leaves, they could know the plant was bad. Doctor Ed asked her why this didn’t mean that odd numbers were all bad, because poison ivy had three leaves in a cluster, but it didn’t work that way, she explained.

For a doctor, he was not very clued in to how numbers worked.

After counting the tiles in the bathroom and hiding one with a washcloth, she took a shower. After drying herself with a towel she turned the television off, leaving it at channel thirty-nine, and fell asleep, exhausted. She dreamed she was a dolphin. There were all kinds of statistics about the ocean, and as a dolphin, she ruminated about as many as possible.

On Sunday she didn’t fly until after three o’clock, so Jenna called for room service, ate a good meal, showered again, and watched television. During the commercials, she took out Doctor Ed’s card and considered calling him and saying that she wasn’t going after all, and she didn’t mind being single.

That was her deal with him. She agreed if she were to back out of making the trip, she would call and talk to him first, but it was Sunday. He might’ve been at church or with his family, and she couldn’t force herself to dial the number.

Church made Jenna think of purple. Good color. It was a holy color, enlightened and positive.

Jenna rolled the singles trip brochure in her hands a dozen more times, reading every word again. A fun and exciting (!) trip in Italy with other singles, all looking for companionship, friendship, and love. If nothing else, it would prove she could do this alone without having a breakdown. She could survive.

And maybe she would find love.

No, she wouldn’t. She knew the statistics were low for it.

Jenna shook her head, knowing this was a waste of time. She had learned a few things, however. She learned that people like Connie or Bonnie found handsome men and enjoyed themselves and tossed them away like rubbish because they had a better deal on the side.

She found herself at the airport with plenty of time to kill after going through security. At a boutique that was overpriced at least three times (and that was okay because it was three and not another amount), Jenna found the brand of lipstick she sought and purchased Blood Crave.

“Do you want something else? We have this great fragrance half priced right now, and it’s really fantastic. It’s not too heavy…would you like to try it?” The clerk smiled brightly at Jenna. Jenna looked at the fragrance bottle. It was green.

More envy.

“No. Thank you.”

“This eye cream is popular, not that you need it, but flights can be very dehydrating for the skin.”

“I’ll drink water on my flight. Just the lipstick, please.”

A sour look passed over the clerk’s face, but Jenna couldn’t imagine what she had done to cause the woman to be irritated. She had been polite and purchased the lipstick. Maybe the clerk was paid on commission.

Jenna left the little shop, walked away, and found a restroom.

In there, with bright lights all around, she carefully applied her new lip color, looked at herself in the mirror, puckered her lips, and promptly rubbed the lipstick away with a tissue. The color was much too optimistic for her situation when Jenna had no reason to think the trip would work out in a positive way.

The lipstick left a red stain on her lips that somehow was attractive, and Jenna left it, thinking that she wasn’t ready for Blood Crave, but maybe just a hint of the color.

Crave was a strong word anyway. Jenna didn’t think she had ever had a true craving, but only slight desires. She might enjoy and wish she could have some peppermint ice cream, or a steaming hot coffee in the morning, or a shower after a long, hot day outside, but she never craved any of that. None of it filled her mind or haunted her.

That was silly.

The tissue, smudged with red lipstick, caught her eye as it lay in the garbage can among white paper towels and tissues. Red was a strong, dependable color, sure of itself and brave. Maybe it was far beyond Jenna.

Cattabulous had a red collar. The collar had little stones set into rivets on the fake leather. Seventeen of them, which was fine. She hoped her cat was eating well and wasn’t locked in the bathroom, but the image of the red collar in the while bathroom was all she could think of now.

“Cattabulous?” Jenna cried out.

“Are you okay, Hon?”

Jenna saw the restroom in Atlanta swirl around her dizzily, refusing to coalesce, up and down, around to the side. Her back thumped a wall as a middle aged women carefully pushed her to a seat. Someone pressed a cool paper towel to her face, and Jenna slowly inhaled as ordered, letting the cool cloth refresh her.

“Now just go on and sit right there for a little bit.” The woman pressed another cloth to Jenna’s hands. It felt cool and clean.

“I’m sorry…I…” Jenna was embarrassed but still too woozy to try to get up and run into a stall, even though she wanted to.

“Why, you nearly fainted. Have you eaten? Are you ill? We can call for medical help, Hon.”

Jenna felt around and reached into her purse for a small bottle. The woman next to her helped her remove the cap on the little bottle and Jenna took a pill out gratefully. Jenna mouthed the pill, struggled to her feet, staggered over to the sink, cupped her hands under the motion-activated faucet, and swallowed the pill with the water cupped in her hands. The effects would be fast and she would feel better. “Nerves. I’m flying to Italy.”

“Oh,” one of the women clucked, “that’s it, I’ll bet.”

“What happened?”

The women brushed Jenna’s hair back. “Poor thing. Sarah and I saw you go white as a sheet, Hon. Just relax and take a few minutes to let your medicine work. Rest and relax.”

The other woman called out. “She’s just fine now. It was her nerves.”

Women muttered and shuffled out the door.

“Are you all alone? Bless your heart.”

Jenna felt a wave of gratitude, but held the cloth tightly. “Yes. I’m alone.”

“That can be a bit unnerving.”

“I’m on a trip with singles…well, I will be as soon as we get there and meet up in Italy.”

“That’s exciting. A singles trip! Why, you could meet just anyone at all and I’ll bet you have a wonderful time.”

Jenna nodded. It did sound fun, in theory. “I’ve never flown but from Dallas to here. This will only be my second time on a plane.”

“You’ll be fine,” the other woman said. Sarah. She had kind eyes and a motherly nature.

Jenna felt her eyes fill with hot tears as she missed her own mother terribly. It was bad enough that Mom made her live alone (with Cattabulous) and work at a library where there were books combined on shelves with other books that were all sizes and shapes and colors (it took medication for her to even go to work). Mom said it made her more independent, but Jenna didn’t agree since it took pills to go to work, pills to live alone, pills to sleep, pills to wake, and pills for when the other pills didn’t work.

Mom was allergic to Cattabulous, so Jenna couldn’t have her beloved cat and go back to live with Mom, which was probably why her mother had encouraged her to adopt a cat in the first place. No matter if Mom was unfair and wanted Jenna to be independent and find a boyfriend, get married, have children, and live a fantastic life. None of it mattered. Jenna missed her mother and wished she were there to hug her and promise this entire adventure would all be okay.

“Oh, Hon. Don’t cry,” the first woman said. Her name was Sharon.

“I miss my mother and I miss home and my cat. Everything is different here, and I am just scared,” Jenna said and snapped her mouth shut as she realized she had blurted all that out aloud to strangers. Tears ran down her face.

“Now, Honey, you can’t sit here and cry. You’ll have a wonderful time once you’re there and around young people and laughing with them. You’ll make friends. Right now, you’re tired because you probably didn’t sleep well for being nervous. Get some good sleep on your long flight and you’ll feel better,” said Sharon.

Sarah nodded. “And have a cold drink. Just keep telling yourself how much fun this will be and when you get home, you’ll have some wonderful stories and pictures of you smiling from ear to ear with new friends to share with your mother.”

“That’s true. She wants me to have fun. She paid a lot for this trip,” Jenna admitted.

“See there? You want her to know how much you enjoyed this trip…so, that means you have to have the greatest time of your life. This should be a special trip, and it will be. So many people only dream of a trip to Italy. Why, you could even find love and romance.”

Jenna looked into Sharon’s face and didn’t see deception. This was advice that her own mother had given her. Strangers agreed. That meant Jenna wasn’t too broken to find love on a single’s trip and wasn’t so hopeless that outsiders ran away from her.

In a few minutes, Jenna felt better again as her pill took effect and the kind words cheered her spirits. She felt able to thank the sympathetic strangers whole heartedly, began to reapply her lipstick, and would soon head off to her check-in for her next flight.

“I love that color,” one of the women, Sharon, said as they parted.

“Color?”

“Your lipstick. It really brings out your green eyes. Red is always a romantic color.”

Jenna smiled genuinely. “It’s called Blood Crave, and I just bought it. It was thirty-three dollars, but maybe it’s a lucky color for me.” She had never known red to be lucky, but it was possible.

As Jenna walked towards her departure gate, she thought about the fact that people in Georgia were pleasant enough, and maybe she should be there, touring Atlanta for a singles trip. Then again, the nameless man who picked up strange women on the plane might live there too, and he wasn’t the type Jenna was looking for.

She sat at her gate and watched people, studying them. She saw couples holding-hands, most of them looking content. She saw families corralling small children and wondered if such a thing was in her future. When the time came, she boarded her flight.

That was how she came to be in seat 25-c next to the Italian men and sipping a Bloody Mary and eating pretzels. Doctor Ed would warn her about alcohol with her medication, but he wasn’t there and she didn’t want to have another bout of anxiety on the plane.

She spared a glance behind her at the many men, women, and children in the seats that stretched back into the wing and the tail section. For all she knew, some of the people signed up for the singles trip might have been on that plane at that very moment.

It could’ve been that man sitting and reading a paperback book and sipping a dark drink. Maybe the two women sitting and giggling to one another. Those two girls and Jenna could meet and become great friends, call each other for years afterwards to laugh about the tour and the misadventures they found in Italy.

Jenna gladly returned to reading her mystery, beginning to think she knew who committed the crime and eager to see if she was right. She was glad her mother suggested this author. He was a clever writer.

Turning back to the end of the book, Jenna looked at the black and white photograph of the author, a British writer who now lived in the United States. Frowning, she decided he was very distinguished looking, and reminded her slightly of a model for a fancy clothing line. He looked smart.

She closed her book, took a pill, and leaned back in her seat. If the trip didn’t work out, maybe Mr. Abbott the mystery writer would one day come to the library where she worked and sign books. He might meet her eyes and say, “Doesn’t it just burn your bum that the books on shelves here are different sizes, shapes, and colors?”

Jenna would say, “It does. Do you like odd numbers and cats?”

“I do indeed. Anyone civilized should,” the author would say.

Jenna began to fall asleep.

“And would you care to marry me, Jenna?”

“Very much.”

She fell deeply asleep in seconds.

How many?

No more and no less than three.

Chapter 8

Barry

Michael Fisher

"It's about time."

Barry leaned back, taking a long sip from the double 12-year Scotch whiskey the flight attendant handed him.

"Stewardess, I'm gonna need another one of these if we don't land soon."

The flight attendant looked down at the bane of this flight. Sure, he was in shape and not too hard on the eyes, but this guy was obviously an insufferable jerk. She gave him her best professional smile and continued on her way down the aisle.

Barry "The Needle" Nero acted like he was God's gift to the world. He sprawled in his First Class seat, stretching his polished vintage wingtips into the space of the empty seat to his right. He loosened his red bow tie and unbuttoned his collar. He closed his eyes and thought back on the stresses of the day as he continued sipping his scotch, the peaty flavor rolling over his tongue.

* * *

The alarm on Barry Nero's smartphone softly faded in, gently bringing his mind to the world of the conscious without the jarring effect of an alarm clock. He stretched his limbs, relishing the feeling of the cool, soft sheets on his bare skin.

Only allowing himself a few moments to enjoy the sensation, Barry swung his legs off the side of the bed, the bamboo laminate flooring cool to the touch of his feet. Standing in view of the mirror that covered the wall opposite the bed, he continued to stretch and flex, admiring the patterns his muscles made across his nude body, the product of hours upon hours of strenuous work with Gustav, his personal trainer.

He turned about before the mirror, taking in the masses of muscle adorned with quality inkwork, collected all over the world from the best in the industry. The front of his torso was a grotesque demonic face over a background of maggots. His backpiece was a biomechanical masterpiece. An entire sleeve of perfectly done traditional Japanese work with a coiling dragon wrapped his right arm above a splashing koi. The opposite side was all American traditional work.

Barry loved the sight of his member standing proud in the morning sunlight, the beams casting a strong shadow on the stark white wall. That was the tool he used night after night, satisfying uncounted numbers of young, nubile women. Once he got his television show, he didn't even have to try anymore. They threw themselves at him.

At one time, being a tattoo artist in the Big Apple was enough to get steady action. Once Stewed, Screwed and Tattooed hit the air, Barry pulled more bumper than a body shop. Having a camera crew following you around the city was bound to draw some attention, but once it became known that the show was not just about the shop, that his conquests were shown on camera, every gold digger in town wanted their fifteen seconds of fame.

Barry did his morning workout, bare as the day he was born save the ink. He figured there was no reason to dirty more clothes. Also, doing his morning push-ups in his tumescent state reminded him of whatever needle groupie he had his way with the night before.

Not that they were ever there in the morning. Once he climaxed, the full condom was tossed in the wastebasket by the bed and the young woman asked, nay, told to find her way out.

This had backfired on occasion. There was the crazy redhead who refused to leave, even after his private security company showed up. The girl still wrote love letters to him, thrown away by the counter boy at the shop unopened.

After his morning calisthenics, Barry took a shower, the water hot enough to scald away any potential remnants of guilt or shame from the night before. He stroked his hands across his rippling muscles, appreciating how thorough his aesthetist, Kate, was at removing every trace of body hair that had once marred his perfect canvas. He ran his vintage single-edge safety razor over his face, followed by a multi-bladed device on the top of his head once the searing water had softened his little remaining hair.

Many people would think he shaved his head down to the scalp to look the part of a tough guy. He didn't need that bit of vanity. He knew he was tough and had the physique to back it up. The same as many men in their early twenties, he was afflicted with male pattern baldness. Rather than show any sign of aging, he removed every trace of the condition.

He emerged into the cool air of his well-appointed loft, located in the ever-so trendy neighborhood of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It was a fashionably spartan living space. Exactly what he needed, nothing extra. At least, that's what he told the ladies. His living room space was dominated by a seventy-inch LED television that doubled as the monitor for his high end laptop, the wireless keyboard and mouse resting on a black lacquered coffee table. He had purchased it on one of his many trips to Japan. Barry got it for a steal, and it was a perfect match for his leather sofa.

In one corner near the kitchen, Barry had a small art studio arranged. The white drawing table sat against the wall, an unfinished sketch abandoned on its surface. A tall easel sat beside it, a painting of a rose with skull in its center rested on its cradle. It wasn't Barry's work but he needed to keep up the pretense of being a working artist, at least for the ladies.

Certainly, he still worked at Mark of Cain, his shop in the newly-gentrified neighborhood called the Bowery. Once one of the toughest areas of Manhattan, home tomany of the old timers’ tiny shops and the legendary music venue CBGB, the Bowery had history. These days, CBs was taken over by a clothing store, and Barry the Needle had purchased the space at 52 Bowery, the former shop of old school tattooer.

He also bought the store fronts on either side. There was no way he was going to work in that tiny space, like the old days. He had the building gutted and remade in his image. It wasn't too hard when you had a TV network backing you.

Mark of Cain Tattoo was born.

Barry was lucky to have gotten his spot on that show in Miami five years ago. It put the name Barry the Needle in the spotlight. Barry was enough of a jerk that he stood out from the main guys on the show, but charming enough to make people like him. After two seasons, they offered him his own show, and even better, his own shop built to his specifications. Sure, he had to deal with cameras on him all damn day, but they paid him well for the hassle.

There were now two entire lines of clothing with his artwork displayed in bright colors. The Stewed, Screwed and Tattooed line was sold at big-name department stores, while the Mark of Cain line, embroidered and sequined, was sold exclusively at high-end boutiques and tattoo shops for a premium price tag.

Wandering about his loft, Barry allowed his pink skin to air-dry. He strolled into the kitchen area, pulled a large bag of protein powder from cabinet, and made a breakfast smoothie of the strawberry-flavored powder, almond milk, and fresh berries from the corner co-op and ice.

Barry sipped his drink as he headed back to his bedroom, or at least the area that qualified as such. The life of excess definitely suited him. He had come a long way from his childhood in a low-income neighborhood in Queens.

He pulled on a pair of tight black boxer briefs, the designer logo stitched into the elastic. It was soon followed by his stylishly vintage-looking black trousers with matching braces. He slipped into the white linen button down, over a white tank, of course. A red silk bow tie and a tweed vest completed the retro look. Not that any of these clothes were actually vintage. While the hipsters around Williamsburg were scouring the thrift shops for suitably old style clothing, Barry just bought it new.

He looked at his watch, a nice stainless timepiece, and realized his ride would be there any minute. He always liked to keep the studio's drivers waiting. It reminded them who was in charge, or so he thought.

He dropped his glass in the sink, knowing the maid that came in twice a week would take care of it. His bags were waiting by the door, packed the day before with all the stylish clothing an American personality would need for a week in Italy.

He grabbed his black fedora, with its red band to match his trademark tie, and slipped it on his bald head. Sliding the strap of a black leather laptop bag over his right shoulder, he took one last look in the mirror by the door, making sure he looked perfect.

Rolling the suitcases into the hallway, he locked the deadbolt and pocketed the keys. He strutted down the hallway to the elevator, desperately looking forward to this trip.

A week without the cameras would be a blessing. His assistant, the one the studio assigned him, not the latest in a long string of apprentices he ran through Mark of Cain, had done some research. The resort in Derosso, Italy looked to be exactly what he needed. There was talk of how free the European women were sexually, compared to how prudish Americans could be. A week of boozing and sex would be just what the doctor ordered.

Of course, his day to day life already fit that description, but he wouldn't have to work in Italy, nor perform for the television cameras. Just the small digital camera in his laptop bag, slung over his shoulder. You had to have some proof of what occurred.

Barry certainly had no intention of being able to actually remember it.

* * *

The limo ride from Williamsburg to JFK was to be as expected, slow and maddening. Luckily, for Barry at least, the minibar was well stocked and there was a TV set in the console in the back.

He flipped through the channels, amazed at the variety it got, when he came across a rerun of an episode of his show. It was a good one, too. It was the episode where he went off on the big guy that does all the cartoony pinup tattoos. What was his name again? Barry knew it was Italian, like his own. Caputo, that was it!

Barry thought the guy was actually going to take a swing at him when he started ripping on his guest's weight issue. Talk about intimidating. He might be fat, but Joe is still a big ass guinea, and if he had connected, it would’ve hurt. Instead, there was just a lot of screaming and posturing. After the show wrapped, they went out for drinks, almost like it never happened. It was ironic how scripted these shows really are.

Barry sank back in the leather upholstery and drank deeply from his glass of vodka on the rocks. Open container laws didn't count for stars in the backs of their limos. He started thinking over his plans for the trip. Carlos, his assistant, told him about the wonders of the resort in Derosso.

Barry had been told that it truly was full service. If you ran out of Scotch, you called the front desk and a new bottle was sent up. If you wanted lobster and Brussels sprouts at 3 am, it would show up at your door before the lobster was done leaking steam. If you were lonely and didn't want to go on the prowl, a quick call would provide you with company in whatever numbers or sexes you desired.

What he didn’t realize was that the studio made sure that his bill was covered. Their star had been more than a little volatile as of late. They were hoping this little break from the cameras would calm him down a bit. It was worth the expenditure.

The long, black Lincoln slid through the traffic at a slow crawl. If the privacy window were not up, Barry would have been treated to a number of profane outbursts, in Spanish as well as English. Instead, he poured himself another glass of vodka as he settled into the mental wasteland that was cable networks.

Some celebrity was caught cheating on his equally famous wife with another star of a slightly lower status. That right there was why Barry had no intentions of ever marrying. Why limit yourself to banging one woman for the rest of your life when you could have the pick of the litter? At least, until age started taking away his physical prowess, but there were drugs that would help with that. For now, he still had his health…that and the testosterone injections he got from his doctor every three months.

The guy said that increased testosterone is believed to be a cause of baldness in middle-aged men. Good thing, it didn't apply to Barry. Twenty-four was far from middle-aged, and the testosterone helped increase his muscle mass and definition. Sure, it also increased his aggression. It was worth the trade-off.

He closed his eyes and thought back on the twins he had invited over to his place over the weekend. It was a good thing the shop could run without him. Barry didn't leave the bed all weekend, except for certain necessary elimination functions and to rehydrate. They were quite enthusiastic, as well as creative. He actually learned a couple new tricks. He smiled as his unconsciously rubbed his hand against his stiffening organ.

The car jerked to a halt as the horn blared. Barry snapped out of his revelry, and his body relaxed its arousal. Barry leaned forward and knocked on the glass dividing him from the driver.

The window slid down into the front seat. A slender man, dark of complexion and hair, looked back in the rear view mirror. His irritation was clear as day, but he tried to turn it off for his client in the back.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Nero."

"What is going on up there?"

"I'm sorry, sir," his brow was wrinkled in frustration, "but a cab almost hit us when he cut us off. I am certain that you do not want to be late for your flight due to a traffic accident."

"At the rate we are going, I'm afraid I'll be late for my flight anyway."

"Once again, I apologize, Mr. Nero. We are almost to the airport. It is only another mile or so until the exit. We should be there in plenty of time."

"Sounds good." Barry's voice was beginning to take on a slur from the multiple vodkas. He picked up the fifth and shook it, wondering if he could get it on the plane. Deciding against it, he topped off his glass from the clear bottle.

* * *

As the limousine smoothly slid up to the curb in the United Airlines drop-off area, skycaps in light blue uniform shirts hustled out to the vehicle, unsure what high profile person would be behind the tinted windows. As one of the skycaps reached to open the rear door, it swung open of its own accord.

Barry the Needle almost buried his face in the pavement when he missed his footing. Luckily, the man reached out and saved the inebriated star from an embarrassing event. Little did he know, paparazzi photographers got his tumble on film anyway. The pics would be uploaded to all the entertainment news sites before Barry would make it on the plane.

Barry shook off the hands that were steadying him. He mumbled something about his bags as he snatched up his leather satchel from the seat in the car. Tossing the strap across his torso, he stood tall and tried to maintain his illusion of sobriety as he walked through the automatic doors.

"Damn! Rich as hell and they still don't tip for shit." The skycaps removed the matching designer luggage from the trunk and processed it through their station, hurrying it on its way to the awaiting airliner.

As Barry cleared the automatic doors, he was greeted by a representative from the airline.

"Mr. Nero, we are so glad that you chose us for your carrier to Italy today. My name is Thomas. Let's get you checked in and through security. Your flight will be leaving in thirty minutes."

The two men walked, or perhaps stumbled, up to the counter, skipping the line. There were grumbles of irritation from the line, unsure of why this hipster deserved such privilege. The agent at the counter gave Barry the biggest smile she could muster, trying to ignore the fact that his eyes barely left the swell of the chest of her uniform.

The comely young woman took his identification and checked it against the system. The computer spat out a small sheaf of papers, which she arranged while trying to maintain her smile. She handed him an envelope containing his itinerary as well as his boarding passes.

The airline lackey took Barry by the elbow and escorted him through the concourse to the TSA screening area. He guided his burden around yet another group of surly travelers, lifting the ropes to allow them access to the scanners at the front.

"Jonathan, let’s get our VIP through here quickly and without any problems."

The uniformed security guards looked the swaying man over and made a token gesture at waving the metal detector wand over him. Of course, it sounded off when it passed his keys, phone, and belt buckle. The man patted the areas down quickly and waved them through. Barry simply smiled, knowing he was living the good life.

He lifted his right hand to look at the boarding passes: Flight 637, from New York Kennedy to Lucca Airport with layovers in London at Heathrow and in Rome. The estimated length for the flight was ten hours. Oh well, more time for drinking, sleeping, and if he was lucky enough, getting a new punch in his Mile High Club card.

Barry was escorted to Gate 48, which had a digital sign over the airline counter that read: 637 London-Rome. On Time. He was happy to see he wouldn't need to wait among the masses for that long. He could already see the people pointing and the hushed whispers that always accompanied it.

"Hey, Tommy. Is there a more...private place I can wait? I don't really like all the gawkers." A camera flash lit the concourse as a photographer snapped a series of shots from down the hallway.

"Fucking paparazzi." Barry was reaching to pull his iPhone from its holster on his belt when it rang. Loudly. It was the theme song for his show. All heads turned his way, as he fumbled to silence the call. It was Carlos.

"Speak!" He held the phone to his left ear, the single steel hoop in his lobe tinking against the glass screen.

"Barry, I just wanted to call to let you know that when you get to Rome, we reserved a private jet that will take you the rest of the way to the Lucca airport, near Derosso. There will be a car waiting when you get there."

"Well, at least you got that part right. Why couldn't I have gotten a private jet here? You know I'm not crazy about being out amongst the unwashed masses."

‘FLIGHT 637 WILL NOW BEGIN PRE-BOARDING FOR THOSE PASSENGERS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS OR SMALL CHILDREN.’

"Gotta run, Carlos. It's time to get on the plane." The phone beeped as he hit the End Call button on the screen. He reached out to shake his escort's hand.

"There's my call, Tommy. Thanks for your help." He turned and started for the tunnel when the sound of Thomas's voice reached out to him.

"You don't have any kids or special needs, Mr. Nero."

"Of course, I do. How many celebs have you met?"

"Quite a few, sir."

"Well, good. Now tell me this—weren't they all kinda special, in one way or another. Some a little more retarded than others, but we all seem to get handlers to keep us out of trouble. So, if you want to keep me out of trouble, I would recommend you get me on that plane and a scotch in my hand."

Thomas looked at the gathering crowd and made a split second decision.

Less than a minute later, after quickly and quietly invoking the supervisor's name, Barry walked down the gangway to the plane, waving over his shoulder to the irritated airline employees.

He rounded the bend in the walkway to see that his helper must have radioed ahead. The flight attendant was waiting at the hatch, scotch in one hand and a pillow in the other.

Maybe it was going to be a good flight after all.

***

Barry opened his eyes from his recollections, just in time to see a stunning redhead swishing down the aisle. She was smoothing down a short black dress that looked as if she had been sewn into it.

Some models are described as having an hourglass figure. This one had an hour-and-a-half. She had a pair on her that could only be implants and hips to match. These godly proportions were offset by one of the tiniest waists he had seen on a woman.

Barry caught her attention as she neared. "I know I have seen you somewhere before. Aren't you on TV?" It sounded like a line, and it truly was.

The curvaceous woman smiled at his advances with lips so full of collagen, they were almost full-time duck lips. She leaned forward onto the armrest of the empty seat, allowing the low cut neckline of her dress to show off her ample assets.

"No, I'm sorry," she replied with a light French accent, "but you are confusing me with someone else."

"I know I've seen you somewhere."

"Well, are you into latex?" A smile spread across those augmented lips as she sat down in the empty seat. It was a good thing he had purchased both seats on this side of the row, just in case such a situation should...arise.

Barry shifted his legs slightly back toward his side. He was used to being the hunter, not the prey. She laid her shapely calves across his as she looked into his ice blue eyes. Her eyes were such a bright green, they had to be contacts. Between the dyed red hair, the contacts, and the surgery, it was almost as if the universe had dropped a plastic toy into his lap.

"There is only one piece of latex I wear, but I think Buffy up there might get pissed if I whip it out here."

Her pale skin flushed at his comment.

"No, I meant latex clothing. I am a glamour and fetish model. I specialize in latex."

"Oh." Barry looked dejected, as his advances were rebuffed. He had thought this one would be easy. She certainly looked the part.

"How about I join you for a drink and perhaps we can spend this long, long trip a little more pleasantly? What are you drinking there, whiskey?"

"Scotch." Barry raised his glass to catch the attention of the flight attendant. The tall blonde (her name tag read 'Chloe') who had greeted Barry at the door calmly approached the pair, having a good idea of what was happening. This wasn't her first flight with these types.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Nero. Is there something else I can get you?"

"Yes, Chloe. This young lady will be joining me here for the remainder of the flight,so if you would like to change her seat in your records, it might be a good time.”

“That’s fine. Mr. Nero. We don’t need to change anything.”

“Oh, and a drink for the beautiful lady as well. She'll have..."

"Vodka and cranberry, please." She turned back to Barry with a smile. "That was a bit presumptuous of you, to assume that I will stay with you for the rest of the flight."

"It's not an assumption. It's a history. I just know you will want to stay."

"Well, in that case..." She got up and headed back toward the front of the plane. As she reached the restroom, she turned back to Barry, her emerald eyes piercing through him, and winked. She smoothly opened the door and entered.

Barry committed a grave sin in his urgency. He gulped down his scotch, the liquor coursing its way down, fueling the fire that he was feeling deep within. He calmly rose and followed in pursuit of the redhead.

He reached the lavatory door and quietly rapped on it with his knuckles. The door cracked open to show her smiling face. He glanced down to see she had unbuttoned quite a bit of the front of her dress. She also began to hike it up, a flash of silver showing a tease of what was below.

Barry smiled as she reached out, grabbed the front of his vest, and pulled him in, locking the door behind them.

* * *

The two reclined in the comfortable seats, sipping their cocktails. Their cheeks were flushed from their recent exertions. Barry smiled at the buxom young woman.

"I don't even know your name. I know about every other bit of you though."

"Just call me Kitten. It will keep it simpler."

"Kitten, it is. What do you say I make you purr again?" He slid his hand slowly up her thigh.

"Isn't it bad enough that this whole section heard us?"

"I think it is more amusing that the first three rows smell like sex. And what a lovely smell it is." Barry waved his hand under his nose, cherishing the scent of her body that still lingered on his skin.

"Perv." She smiled at him.

"I resemble that remark, and don't you forget it." He smiled a wicked grin that had dropped more panties than most men would ever dream of.

"So, Mr. Nero, was it? Like the emperor? Seems fitting that we are headed to Rome then, or are you getting off in London?"

"Yeah, I like to think he was my ancestor. I'm getting off in Rome..."

"Unless we‘get off’ on the plane again." She returned his wicked smile.

"As I was saying, I am going to Rome and then catching a private jet to an exclusive resort in the hills of Tuscany."

"Ah, what a shame. I am staying in Rome for the week. There is a fashion show that I will be modeling for. I was hoping we could continue this in a bed."

"Bed, hot tub, balcony, whatever. How about when you are done with your show, you catch a plane down to Derosso and we can continue the party there?"

"I don't know. I mean, that was kind of fun, but to rearrange my itinerary for that?" She slowly stroked her hand over the growing bulge in his charcoal trousers, the wool rough against her palm. He twitched in response to her attentions.

"Kind of fun? I had time to get another drink by how long it took you to stop trembling."

Kitten just smiled into her drink, refusing to give the cocky bastard the satisfaction of being right. Cocky was definitely the right term. That man could sling some meat like a veteran butcher. It was a hell of a lot of fun tormenting him.

"So, how about it? You wanna come down to my hotel after your show?"

As if in response, she slid her hand up her thigh, parting her alabaster legs, giving her boy toy a glimpse of what he wanted. Stroking her fingers over herself, she then slipped them into his mouth. The look on his face was priceless.

"From my lips to yours." She leaned in and kissed him deeply. She knew then that she had this lecherous reality star wrapped around her finger. "Now, you keep those thoughts fresh. I have to go back to my seat for now. I have a few things I need to sort out before we get to London."

The luscious model rose, making sure her new plaything got a long parting view as she wiggled her dress back into position. She strutted down the aisle, back near coach.

As she sat down, Barry happened to glance past her. Through the partially open curtain, he saw a face fixated on his own. A guy, kind of average with dark brown hair fashionably mussed, locked eyes with Barry for just a few seconds too long. He quickly looked down, as if reading. A quick glance up showed that the star was still looking at him.

It wasn't like Barry was interested. He didn't swing that way, at least not sober. He was just curious what was going on. Was it another paparazzi camera boy or just a die-hard fan?

Whatever.

He waved for Chloe to bring him another cocktail while he tried to see where the tail his cock was just was doing went. Having no luck, he leaned back and fantasized about what he would do to Kitten when she arrived in Derosso. Of course, she was going to come. She already did five times today. He let out a truly twisted laugh at that thought.

* * *

The layover at Heathrow was uneventful. The only passengers that left the plane were staying in England. A few new people got on to replace a portion of the departed. Barry slept through the entire event. The alcohol and sex proved too great an adversary. He was awoken, somewhat refreshed, but cranky, by the fasten seatbelts announcement. He had slept at an odd angle, his neck stiff and sore, but they were almost to Rome. He could deal with some stiffness in his neck. Now, if only Kitten would return to take care of the stiffness in his pants.

Barry looked back to her seat, but the crimson hair was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she got off in London. He didn't think he scared her off. Odd…he didn't usually have that effect on women. Whatever. There would be plenty of exotic Italian women that could benefit from his affections.

The airliner landed smoothly and taxied to the terminal. The pilot informed them of the local time and weather, which was a brisk 66° at 1:43AM. Barry set his watch accordingly, wiping his fingerprints from its stainless steel casing when he was done replacing it on his wrist. As always, the passengers in First Class were allowed to disembark first. The flight attendants wished him a wonderful stay in Rome.

Chloe looked especially happy that he was leaving. She had no idea he was continuing onward. Before stepping through the hatchway, he glanced back into the cabin, hoping to catch sight of the scarlet haired siren. Not a red hair in sight. He had no idea why she was so special, but he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her.

Barry was greeted at the top of the gangway by a man in a well-fitted navy suit, holding a sign that read‘Nero.’ He wondered how many locals thought he was playing a joke.

He walked up to the man and smiled.

"I'm Barry Nero. Are you my tour guide?"

The man returned his smile as he extended his hand. Barry clasped the proffered hand in a strong grip and shook it twice.

"I am Armando, from the agency from which you hired the jet. There will be a bit of a wait until your plane is ready to depart. It was delayed on its arrival from Dusseldorf. In the meantime, would you like to get something to eat? There is a private lounge for just such occasions, just down this corridor."

Barry realized the rest of the passengers were exiting the plane and they were right in the way of the flow.

"Sure. I bet whatever you have will beat the garbage on the plane. Which way?"

Armando raised a hand and gestured toward a trio of large men in identical suits and earpieces. They also had matching bulges under their jackets.

They approached and took up positions surrounding Armando and Barry. Once in place, the group started to head toward the lounge in question.

* * *

The lounge was well appointed with a full bar and food on call. Barry spent the hour wait dining on a nice veal saltimbocca and a local Sangiovese. The atmosphere was nice and comfortable, all the while looking nothing like any American Italian restaurant he’d ever been in.

He blotted his lips with the black linen napkin and dropped it on the table as he stood. "Can we go ahead and go to the plane?" He was obviously done with the airport.

Armando gave a quick nod and waved to the security guards. They took up their places by the door. Barry sighed and moved to stand in the middle of the goons.

As they headed back toward the terminals, Barry took the opportunity to look about him, squeezing in a little people-watching. He noticed the guy from the plane that he caught staring at him. He was checking his phone, scrolling through texts. The young man glanced up just in time to lock eyes with Barry.

Barry returned his stare as he watched the guy's mouth fall open. He proceeded onward with a chuckle. Fucking stalkers, will they never end? Well, he won't be on the next flight at least. He wouldn't have to worry about the creeper anymore.

After a brief stroll across the tarmac, Armando and the goon squad left him at the stairs going up to the awaiting jet. Barry settled into the leather upholstery of a seat on the jet and looked about him. Curious, there was no flight attendant this time.

"Hello! Anyone else here or is only us tattoo guys?"

The door at the front of the compartment opened and a tall, thin man with smooth olive skin emerged. He was wearing a pilot's uniform that was crisply pressed, the creases as sharp as could be. The starched white shirt practically glowed against his skin.

"Pardon, my English not so good. The flight will be fifteen minutes once airborne. The bar is over there. No hostess on dis flight. Serve yourself."

He turned and closed the door behind him as he retook his place in the cockpit.

"My-a Eenglish, it's-a not so a-good." Barry shook his head as he strolled over to the limited bar. He found a bottle of an inexpensive whiskey.

He settled in and began sipping straight from the bottle as the small aircraft pulled away from the terminal and began its taxi to the runway. As the jet lifted into the air, Barry sank into the seat with his bottle of whiskey by his side.

* * *

The silver dagger of aluminum sliced through the night sky, descending on a small patch of lights marking the runway. The aircraft settled gently on the tarmac and slowed to a gradual taxi as it reached its destination. A black sedan sat running on the side, waiting for its passenger to arrive. Exhaust plumed into the night.

Barry, already feeling the long pulls of whiskey he had taken during the flight, stumbled down the stairs and across the black pavement. The sodium arc lights cast a yellow haze across everything.

As he neared the vehicle, a muscular man in a dark suit, his skin sallow in the lighting, got out and opened the rear door for the inebriated man. Barry all-but-fell into the seat as the driver retrieved his bags from the jet. The car sank a bit when the driver dropped the expensive luggage into the trunk.

The driver then returned to his place behind the wheel and pulled out of the airport proper and onto an unlit access road. They drove through the countryside in silence for about ten minutes before Barry could no longer contain himself.

"How much longer will it be? I'm beat and want to get to my room."

The driver glanced in the mirror and shook his head. Barry was unsure if that meant he didn't know, or if he just didn't speak English. This was going to be a long week if nobody spoke English. Just because Barry was Italian, it didn't mean he spoke the language.

Barry sighed as he hit the bottle again, hoping the drive would be over shortly.

The car crested a hill and over the rise, and he finally saw his destination. An old stone edifice, lit with the same yellow glow he had seen at the airport, sat before him. Its stonework was quite beautiful, yet also showed its age. Surrounding the hotel was a number of smaller buildings, perhaps other amenities the resort had to offer.

Now that the car was a bit closer, he saw that it didn't actually look like any resort he had ever been to. It looked more like an old village that developed around this central building. Carlos had better have not fucked this up. It would cost him his job, if not his career, if this place was anything less than he had been made to believe.

The sedan slowed to a halt at the curb, the grand building to his left. The driver got out and opened Barry's door, making a grand flourish with his arm, beckoning him to enter.

"What about my bags?" Barry turned back to point at the trunk, when he saw a sight for sore eyes.

Down the block, he saw a drop dead gorgeous woman, barely clothed, her long legs practically glowing in the sallow lighting. Her breasts were just covered by a silky blouse, gaping open, and her long, raven hair framed a face that belonged in a magazine. Vogue or Penthouse, either would work for Barry.

The driver grunted at the star, a suitcase in each hand, as he nodded toward the door. They neared the entrance as he looked back at the woman.

"Maybe later. Maybe later."

Chapter 9

Possession

Edward P. Cardillo

Mary and I had been dating for three months and were very much in love. It was during those three months that the attacks grew increasingly frequent. My Tormentor had seen it fit to leave the anonymity of the shadows. She’d sometimes appear in my dreams as a beautiful woman with flowing brown hair and porcelain skin.

Other times I’d awaken in my bed, sometimes with my Mary next to me, to find Her staring down at me with those eyes that blazed in the darkness with a mixture of hatred and jealousy. You see, She felt an intimacy with me that was as deep as it was unwelcome.

While Mary knew not of my inner turmoil, my quagmire of insecurities that caused me to second guess every thought, every action I made, the Demon Whore knew what troubled my heart. To consummate our unholy bond, she revealed Her name—or a name—to me: Viktoriya.

I cursed Her, told Her to leave me alone. I even threatened her with harm I couldn’t possibly visit upon her if she dared lay a pale finger on my Mary. Viktoriya only laughed at me, a cruel act of derision towards something she valued as less than an insect.

Yet, She haunted this lowly insect every day of my miserable existence, doing her best to spoil any happiness I found with my new love. Mary tried to feed me, cook for me, to get my weight up. She said I looked like a ghost or zombie fresh from the grave. None of her efforts found fruition, and it frustrated her greatly.

Viktoriya fed off of any conflict She stirred up in our relationship, lapping up every seed of doubt She planted. I would wake up with love bites and lipstick on my neck that I hadn’t gone to bed with, which caused Mary great pain and confusion. Other times, I would shut the window to my bedroom at night only to find it open in the morning, Viktoryia’s kisses planted on my body like cold frost on glass, melting away in the sunlight.

One evening, I couldn’t stand it any longer. The snow was falling outside, and there was that absolute silence and stillness that one only found in a snowstorm, but inside I was at war with myself. I had to tell Mary or risk losing her…or worse, endangering her life through ignorance. The burden on my conscience, on my soul, was unbearable, so I let the truth out like water bursting from a dam. Mary listened patiently, to her credit refraining from interrupting me until the entire grisly tale was told.

I asked her if she thought I was crazy, but she said she did not. I laughed like an idiot and asked her why. She replied that the look on my face and the gravity of my tone were enough to tell her I was being truthful.

“What do we do now?” I asked her.

“We’ll wait for this Viktoriya tonight, and we’ll confront her until she agrees to leave you alone for good.”

I laughed at this. How do you confront a shadow? How do you cajole something that skulks around in the darkness to agree to anything? I pleaded with Mary to leave this place, the both of us. Perhaps we could outrun this Demon. Perhaps we could hide.

However, Mary was adamant about not running. Although I was terrified at the night to come, part of me was relieved that, one way or another, this nightmare would be resolved through confrontation.

That evening, around midnight (as cliché as it seemed), Viktoriya drifted in through my window with the ice and frost, a terribly beautiful apparition standing before my bed. She laughed at me, baring her fangs and flashing me her cleavage. “Where’s the bitch?”

“Hello,” said Mary from a chair in the corner of the room. “You must be Viktoriya.”

Viktoriya, startled, turned around, grinning wickedly. “So, you warn me against harming her and yet you lead her to me so that she may look on me.”

“It was my idea,” said Mary. “You must leave him alone. Go bother someone else.”

“And who should I bother? Perhaps I should bother you now that you’ve set eyes upon me. Or perhaps I should plague your poor, sick mother.”

“No!” I shouted, rebuking the Demon.

Mary put her hand up to silence my protest. “You do not frighten me. You pick on the lonely, feeding on their fear. My mother isn’t lonely. She has me and my two sisters to look after her.”

“What about him?” hissed Viktoriya, pointing a long, white, clawed finger at me. “Is he not lonely?”

“Not anymore, which is why you have to leave him alone now.”

Viktoriya smiled wide, flashing her terrible fangs in a display of dominance, not just as predator over prey but one lover over a rival. “I assure you, he is very much alone. He harbors secrets that he dares not share with you for fear of your reaction.”

“Shut up, you nasty cunt!” I hollered at her. “Mary, she lies.”

“I know she does,” replied Mary, but I wasn’t sure in that moment if she really believed it to be true or not. “She’s desperate and lashing out.”

“Oh,” said Victoriya with profound menace, “I assure you, I haven’t yet begun to ‘lash out.’ He’s told me things that he wants no person to know—one secret in particular that will make you desperate.”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about!” I reassured Mary.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Mary with a strength that was admirable given the circumstances. “So what are you going to do, Viktoriya, stalk us for the rest of our lives? We’re not afraid of you. You’re wasting your time here.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Viktoriya. “I can cut his fear with a knife, sink my teeth into it, savor its palpability.”

“You can never have him because he’s mine now, and I don’t share. You’ve lost, Viktoriya. You’ve lost him. Be a good bitch and move along. This whole display is beneath you.”

Viktoriya had a flash of rage, but she quickly composed herself, the room growing colder as she did so. “So, what you’re saying is that, as long as you’re in the picture, I cannot have him?”

“I’m saying he’s mine. Now fuck off.”

The Demon She-Bitch smiled wickedly. “I see.”

She drifted back across the room and flew out the window. The room became twenty degrees warmer after she left, and I ran to Mary, holding her in my arms.

“See, I told you I’d chase her away,” said Mary, looking into my eyes.

“No,” I said with a heavy heart, “you’ve just made it worse.”

I lay awake that night watching over my Mary as she slept. How she could’ve slept after an exchange like that was a mystery to me. She had just touched the dark plane of the unholy, and she slept like a baby in my bed. Perhaps it was exhaustion from the ghastly trial.

I must’ve fallen asleep, because I woke with the sunlight on my face.

Mary was gone.

Her disappearance was made to look as if she had reconsidered her position and left me of her own volition, but I knew better. I knew that was what the Abomination wanted me to think, that I had been abandoned by my love. She wanted me to believe that so I’d come crawling back to Her.

Predictably, Mary didn’t answer or return any of my calls. Her family had called a search and the police were sent to my door, but I had already moved on.

I fled for my life to outrun Viktoriya or die trying.

Chapter 10

Stefania’s Tour

Edward P. Cardillo

Jenna gazed upon the palatial Derosso Grande resort with wide eyes. In the pale moonlight it was simply magnificent. It was a wide two-story limestone structure with lots of pillars and balconies, sprinkled with little gardens ornamented with fountains of urinating cherubs.

It was everything she hoped it could be and more.

She shouldered her carry-on bag and grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase, and she approached the front steps…ten, to be precise. She stopped a moment, perturbed by even number, when someone bumped into her.

“Pardon me,” she said in a mousy voice, even though she was the one bumped into.

Barry “The Needle” barely regarded her as he ushered on past, staggering up the stairs as a man in a black suit followed behind carrying what must’ve been his luggage.

“Can I help you with that?” asked a gentle voice from behind her.

Jamie stood there with his own luggage at his feet and his right hand extended towards Jenna.

“Ah, chivalry isn’t dead after all,” she quipped, liking the guy making the generous offer. There was something about him…that seemed…unassuming.

Jenna handed him her carry-on, which he quickly slung over his right shoulder, and he grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase from her. She winced as he climbed each step, knowing that it would only end in ten, but she was appreciative for the help and for the gesture.

Jamie descended the steps to retrieve his bags.

“Thank you,” Jenna said.

“Don’t mention it.” He turned to climb the steps, and Jenna was right at his side.

“My name is Jenna,” she said extending a hand. She quickly withdrew it, cursing herself silently as both his hands were full.

“Nice to meet you, Jenna. I’m Jamie.”

Jenna was naturally a bundle of nerves around the opposite sex, but she was here to jump out of her comfort zone. “So, you wouldn’t be here for the singles tour, would you?”

Jamie blushed, which Jenna found quite endearing. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

They walked through the front doors and into a lobby adorned with ornate wallpaper, crystal chandeliers, Victorian-style couches, and red carpeting. The drunk man who barreled past Jenna was now seated on a couch, holding his head. The man in the black suit dropped his luggage in front of him and stood there expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to check me in?” Barry blurted out.

Jenna and Jamie looked at each other. “I hope he’s not on the tour,” said Jamie. Jenna giggled anxiously.

“The tour guide will handle that, sir,” said the man in the black suit. He waited.

“Well, get on then,” said Barry, waiving a dismissive hand.

“It is customary to tip, sir.”

Barry sat forward, reaching in his pocket. “Ah, yes. My apologies.” It was more sarcasm than an apology.

“So much for that,” said Jamie out of the side of his mouth.

“This’ll be entertaining,” said Jenna, happy she found what might be a kindred spirit. She had to be careful. Normally, in socially ambiguous situations, she latched onto someone who she thought was a kindred spirit, but she liked Jamie. She had to be careful not to crowd him and wear out her welcome.

Duly tipped, the man in the black suit left his charge and exited the lobby.

“I guess we’ll wait over there for the tour guide,” said Jamie, gesturing to four couches arranged in a square in the center of the lobby. “Don’t worry; you can sit next to me.”

Jenna smiled. It was as if he read her…goddammit! Four chandeliers. Really?

They made their way to the couches and took a seat on one next to the drunkard, rather than across from him, so they didn’t have to look at him or have him stare at them.

Right after they sat down, both of their heads turned as a good looking, blond-haired guy sauntered into the lobby wheeling in a large suitcase. Like the drunk asshole on the next couch, he was well-dressed in designer clothing. Behind him were two girls. One was pretty but very serious-looking. She wore a business casual outfit, kaki pants, and a blue button-down blouse with her hair tied back. The other was an attractive girl in a sluttier sense with heavy eye makeup, flowing hair, and dressed in tight black jeans and a tight black tank top.

Jenna raised an eyebrow at Jamie, who shrugged casually.

The well-dressed blond-haired guy approached the concierge first, while the two girls formed a line behind him.

“Please have a seat,” said the concierge. “The tour guide will be along to check you all in and give an orientation shortly.”

Jenna could barely contain her enthusiasm. She tensed her body, her sweaty palms rubbing on her knees. This was all so exciting. These were to be her fellow tour-mates, and what an interesting group it was.

The guy and the two girls then made their way to the couches. He courageously took a seat across from the drunkard, and the two girls took the couch across from Jenna and Jamie.

“Hi, I’m Lucy.”

Jenna was very excited to meet one of the girls in the group. “Hi, Lucy. I’m Jenna.”

“I’m Jamie.”

Angela was looking at all the couches, sizing up the group. “I’m Angela,” she said to no one in particular.

“Well, hi there, Angela,” said Paul, obviously fancying her. “I’m Paul.”

“Hi, Paul.”

“Hi, Paul,” said Lucy, Jenna, and Jamie.

Barry was staring at Lucy. “Hi, Lucy. I’m Barry.”

Lucy looked a bit uncomfortable at being singled out from the group, by this drunkard no less. “You okay, Barry?”

“I had a little bit too much to drink in the limo.”

“Oh, a limo. Nice. You must be someone pretty important!” interjected Jenna.

“You don’t know who this is?” asked Paul of the group. “Really?”

“I assume you’re going to tell us,” said Angela.

Paul leaned forward grinning wide. “This is Barry ‘the Needle’ Nero!”

“I don’t know if I’d broadcast that nickname on a singles tour,” said Angela. Lucy chortled.

“He’s a famous tattoo artist,” explained Paul.

“Oh, you’re on that reality show,” said Lucy, the name and profession ringing a bell.

“So this is it?” asked Barry. “Where’s the rest of the tour?”

Lucy and Angela traded looks, obviously insulted by the implication that they were apparently a disappointment. Jenna was busy gazing at Jamie, happy she found the one decent guy on the tour in her estimation. Jamie’s attention was torn between Lucy and Paul. Angela wasn’t too bad either.

“I’m sure there’ll be more,” said Lucy. “Maybe there was a delay in a couple of the flights.”

A young woman holding a large canvas bag entered the lobby from outside. She was a pretty brunette in shorts and a halter top. She had to have been around the same age as everyone in the group. Paul and Jamie perked up when they saw her. Barry kept staring poor Lucy down while she pretended not to notice.

The young woman approached the concierge, smiling and saying hello. He handed her something, and she approached the group. “You are here for the singles tour?” she asked in a slight Italian accent.

The group nodded.

“Excellent! My name is Stefania. I’ll be your tour guide.”

“Where’s the rest of the group?” asked Paul. “We thought it’d be bigger.”

“You didn’t hear? There was a bomb scare at the London Heathrow Airport. All flights have been delayed. The rest of the group should be arriving sometime tomorrow. But not to worry. I’m going to give you an orientation tonight, we’ll do an ice breaker, and then I’ll take you around Derosso so you can get acquainted with the town.”

“Sounds good,” said Lucy. She was eager to get started. Why waste time waiting for the others? They were here now.

“Excellent. If there aren’t any questions, I’d like to go over our itinerary.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out some brochures. She handed them to Lucy, who dutifully passed them around.

“Okay, first, tonight, we will explore the small town of Derosso. A quaint town with a small population, it is often a hub for tours of the Tuscany region due to its central location. Tomorrow we will take a ride to Florence, a big city full of art and culture…”

“What about the rest of the group?” asked Paul.

Stefania smiled. “We’ve arranged two buses. You all will be leaving on one bus. The other group will leave on theirs when they arrive. Another guide will orient them on their trip to Florence, where they will catch up with us.”

Paul nodded, satisfied.

“Florence,” she continued, “is a cultural center. You all have tickets to the famous Uffizi Gallery, we will gaze upon Michelangelo’s David, and we will drink in various Tuscan paintings. Nothing says romance like Florence in the summer.”

“On Wednesday we’ll visit the Chianti region, a beautiful countryside of rolling hills dotted with cypress trees and old, family-run vineyards. We will stop at a few for some wine tasting, and at the last we will have a pasta lunch with all of the wine you can drink.

“On Thursday we will visit the medieval walled-in fortress town of Siena, where we’ll meander through narrow streets and take in the art, cuisine, and the site of the Palio, the famous horserace held twice a year.

“On Friday, we’re going to switch gears a bit and visit Cinque Terra outside of Tuscany in the Liguria region. ‘The Five Lands’ are five coastal villages that will remind you of the Caribbean more so than Italy. We’ll feast on fresh seafood, stroll from village to village, we’ll visit the famous Monterosso Pirate Church, and then we’ll spend some time on one of the small beaches soaking in sun and swimming in the turquoise water.

“On Saturday, you’ll have a day to yourselves. You can either choose to spend it in Derosso, or we can provide you with a ride to the train station where you can visit La Spezia, Viareggio, or Pisa for the day. Your choice.”

“Wow, sounds great,” said Jenna. She had never been to Europe before, and she’d never dreamed she’d see such beauty in her whole life.

Lucy was also impressed. She was exhausted from her program, and even if the male prospects on the tour were pitiful, this was a much needed vacation before she launched into her career. She was glad her mother harangued her into doing it.

Paul was busy imagining what Stefania looked like naked. Barry was imagining what Lucy looked like naked. Angela was off in her own world, and Jamie was becoming quite aware of how much Jenna fancied him.

“And now, we’re going to go around and introduce ourselves to the group. I’ll begin. My name is Stefania, I’m from Montecatini, I’m twenty-five years old, I am not currently in a relationship…” Paul grinned wickedly at this. “…and I work for my parents’ tour company.”

Stefania pointed to Paul.

“Hi, my name is Paul, I’m twenty-six, I’m from the UK, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, and I’m looking for someone to figure it out with.”

“Very good,” said Stefania. “Next.”

“My name is Barry, I’m from New York, I’m twenty-four, I’m a tattoo artist and reality TV star—maybe you’ve seen my show…” he slurred. Crickets. “Well, I’m looking to meet some interesting ladies on this tour,” he said looking at Lucy.

Jenna clutched her Blood Crave lipstick in her right hand as if it were a talisman. “Hi, I’m Jenna, I’m twenty-three, I’m from Dallas, Texas…” She wanted to mention the current love of her life, Cattabulous, but Doctor Ed’s voice in her head forbade her. “…I work in tech support over the phone for computers; I enjoy fantasy role-playing games, cosplay…”

That got Jamie’s attention. He wondered what she’d look like in various costumes, and then he realized that Jenna actually had a decent body despite her nerdy appearance.

“…and I’m hoping to meet some interesting people. So far I’m not disappointed.”

“Hi, I’m Jamie. I’m twenty-four, I’m from New York, I recognized Barry from his reality show…” Barry barely acknowledged the compliment, to Jamie’s disappointment. Asshole. “…I’m a software engineer…” Jenna thought…no, she knew it was fate. It had to be. “…and I just got out of a toxic relationship.”

“Well, you took the right step in joining this tour,” assured Stefania. “This’ll be good for you. Next.”

Lucy perked up. “Hi, I’m Lucy. I’m twenty-six, I’m from New York, I just graduated with my Ph.D. in clinical psychology…”

“Does this mean you’re analyzing us?” asked Barry with an arched eyebrow.

“Only if you pay me, Buddy,” quipped Lucy. “I’m looking to take some time to myself and perhaps meet some cool people. I’ve put my life on hold to get through my program, and I’d like to rejoin the living.”

“Excellent,” said Stefania. “Next.”

Angela looked as if she was being inconvenienced. “Hi, I’m Angela, and I prefer to remain shrouded in mystery.”

That was it.

Everyone just gawked at her terse introduction. Paul was intrigued.

“Okay,” said Stefania, not quite sure what to make of Angela. “Before we check into our rooms, we’re going to do a quick ice breaker.” That would open Angela up a bit.

Stefania reached into her bag and pulled out a large bag of M&M’s. She ripped the top corner open and handed the bag to Paul. “Pour a few out into your hand and pass it around.”

Paul snorted, but poured a few into his hand and passed it to Barry, who poured and ate his.

“No, Barry, keep yours in your hand,” said Stefania, but Barry passed the bag.

Jenna poured some into her hand and passed the bag to Jamie. Shit! She got four M&M’s. Four, goddamit.

When the bag made it to Lucy, she poured a few into her hand and returned it to Stefania.

Stefania smiled. “Okay, gang. We’re going to go around, and each of you is going to pick a color. If you pick a green M&M, you have to talk about a time when you were very happy; blue, a time you were sad; yellow, frightened; red, angry; and Brown, you have to talk about a shitty thing an ex did to you, or that you’ve done to an ex. Lucy, we’ll start with you.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Jesus. Okay. Don’t put me on the spot or anything,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s all part of the fun,” insisted Stefania.

“Uh…okay.” Lucy picked a yellow M&M. “Okay, I guess I was afraid one time when I went out with a couple of my friends…I understood it to be a girls’ night out, but they brought their boyfriends. Well, in the course of dinner I found out that one girlfriend was engaged, and the other was moving in with her boyfriend. I saw how happy they were and how they were progressing in their lives…and I was afraid that, while I was studying my ass off in my program, maybe life—real life—had passed me by.”

Stefania smiled warmly. “Thank you, Lucy. That was honest. It’s not too late. You’re still young, and I think this tour is definitely a step in starting your ‘real life.’”

“Can I eat it now?” asked Lucy.

“Go ahead,” said Stefania. She looked at Angela and grinned with self-satisfaction. “Your turn.”

Angela picked a blue one. “I was very sad when I was ten years old and my parents were both killed in a car crash.”

“Oh, how terrible,” said Jenna putting her hands up to the sides of her face.

Angela was all poker face. “They had gone out on a ‘date night.’ The coroner said they were killed instantly. It was then that I first realized that I was alone. I mean really alone.”

This was not what Stefania had expected at all. She immediately changed her mind about Angela. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s good to see that you’re doing something for yourself. You seem like a strong woman, Angela, who is used to taking care of herself.” Stefania took a brief moment to let her words sink in, but Angela’s face indicated nothing. So much for breaking the ice. “Okay, Jenna…”

Jenna was looking down at her hand full of M&M’s, frowning in concentration. Her shoulders were pulled tight to her ears, and she was rocking slightly. She appeared to be counting and recounting her M&M’s.

“Jenna?”

Lucy knew OCD when she saw it. She picked an M&M from her batch and placed it in Jenna’s hand figuring that it would undo whatever number was making Jenna uncomfortable.

Jenna immediately relaxed. Her frown turned into a smile, and she looked up at Lucy with such gratitude, it warmed Lucy’s heart. Lucy winked at her.

“Okay,” said Jenna recovering quickly and picking a yellow M&M. “I’m pretty much frightened all the time. There isn’t enough M&M’s to go into each time. I’ve never been anywhere before, and I’m hoping that this trip is the first step in confronting my fears so I don’t get left behind in life either.” She popped her yellow M&M into her mouth and smiled at Lucy, who now felt a combination of empathy and respect for Jenna. Jamie was impressed as well; he knew exactly how Jenna felt.

“Very good,” beamed Stefania. “You should be proud of yourself. It takes a strong person to confront her fears head-on.” She looked at Jamie. “Next.”

Jamie picked up a brown one and paused, deep in thought. “My ex committed suicide.”

The group was silent.

There were looks of sympathy and horror. Angela was now looking right at Jamie, the expression on her face undefinable.

Stefania was dumbfounded. She expected them to share personal things about themselves, but this had to have been the worse ice breaker she’d ever facilitated in the history of this tour. These people had serious baggage.

Oh shit. Barry was next. Stefania frowned, but her expression quickly changed. “Well, Barry, since you decided to eat yours, we’ll move onto Paul.” Barry blew a raspberry, but the rest of the group looked relieved.

Paul took a red M&M. “I was very angry when my father cut me off, telling me I needed to sort out my life. Maybe I’m perfectly happy with my life. I mean, who the fuck is he to tell me how to live? I’m not like him. I’m nothing like him.” He went silent, glaring down at the red M&M as if it was his father in the palm of his hand. He angrily popped it into his mouth and chewed it with a hatred that was obvious to everyone.

Stefania felt like this party game was turning into a very depressing psychotherapy exercise. She decided to cut her losses and salvage the mood, if possible. “Okay, it’s getting late. You can eat the rest of your M&M’s. Let’s check into our rooms, and then we’ll meet back down in the lobby for a tour of the town.”

She reached into her canvas bag and pulled out a bunch of keys with bright orange tags with room numbers on them. “Lucy and Jenna, you will be rooming together.” She handed them their room keys. Jenna looked excited, and Lucy looked relieved.

“Barry and Paul,” she handed them their room keys. “Angela, your roommate is one of the ones who will be arriving tomorrow. So you have the room to yourself tonight.” She handed Angela her key. Angela revealed nothing, but inside she was relieved. She preferred to be alone.

Stefania handed a key to Jamie. “Same goes for you.” Jamie accepted his key.

“Okay, drop your stuff up in your rooms, and we’ll meet back down here in, let’s say, fifteen minutes.”

Everyone stood and they began to file into the elevator with their luggage. Paul and Jamie decided to take the stairs rather than wait for the already full elevator to return to the lobby. Barry, worse for the wear, waited alone by the elevator.

When they reached the second floor, Jenna walked beside Lucy as they looked for their room.

“Thanks for giving me one of your M&M’s,” said Jenna sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it. I’m glad we’re rooming together.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you seem like the only other normal person here.”

A big smile crept across Jenna’s face. Never before had she been referred to as ‘normal.’ It might’ve been the greatest compliment she ever received.

“113. Here it is,” said Lucy, putting the key in the door and turning it in the lock.

Thank goodness, thought Jenna to herself. Lucy smiled, knowing the room number would be a relief to her new roomie.

They entered the room and dropped their stuff on the floor by the door. It was a tiny room with two twin-size beds. Not great accommodations if one were to have overnight guests.

“Which bed do you want?” asked Lucy.

“Can I have the bed by the window?”

“Sure.”

“This way if a vampire comes into our room, he’ll get you first,” said Jenna.

“You’re really into that fantasy stuff, aren’t you?”

“It’s a hell of a lot better than my reality.”

Lucy smirked. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve been known to play some fantasy card games.”

Jenna squealed in delight, causing Lucy to jump out of her skin. “That’s great! I packed all of my decks just in case!”

“By the way, I saw how you were eying Jamie down there.”

Jenna looked startled. “Was it that obvious?”

“Don’t sweat it. After your turn in the M&M game, he looked impressed. You also got his attention when you mentioned you’re into cosplay.”

Jenna ran over to Lucy, her hands folded in prayer. “Really? You think so?” Then the excitement faded from her face. “I bet I’m not his type, though.”

“What do you mean? You’re really cool.”

“Well, you’re attractive, and then there’s miss dark and mysterious.”

“Who, Angela?” Lucy chuckled. “She’s more Paul’s type.”

“So you think I have a shot with Jamie?”

“I think with a few touch ups, you’ll have Jamie following you everywhere.” Lucy reached into her one suitcase and produced a makeup kit. “Come here.”

Jenna obediently stood in front of the mirror with Lucy, and Lucy began to apply some foundation to Jenna’s face. “You’re a natural beauty, so I don’t think you need much. Just a bit of foundation to even you out…and now a little blush on your cheeks…just a tiny bit.” She dabbed her finger in the blush and lightly spread it ever so slightly on Jenna’s cheeks. “There.”

“Oh!” said Jenna, reaching into her pocket. “We can’t forget Blood Crave.”

Lucy looked at it. “Nice shade. Sassy. Go ahead.”

Jenna put it on.

“Smile,” said Lucy. Jenna smiled. “You got a little on your teeth, Honey.”

Jenna looked in the mirror and scratched it off with her fingernail. She sucked her teeth and smiled again. “All gone.”

“You look great,” said Lucy.

“Thanks,” said Jenna beaming.

Paul threw open the door to his room and dropped his luggage on the floor. Barry came stumbling in later, dropping off a few bags and then returning to the elevator to retrieve the rest. He stumbled back into the room and made a bee line for the mini bar.

“Don’t you think you need to slow down?”

“Fuck off,” said Barry. “What are you, my Daddy?”

“Jesus, you think you brought enough luggage?”

“I like to look good. I like my outfits to be fresh. I plan on snagging some serious tail on this tour,” said Barry drinking from a small bottle of Vodka.

Paul knew exactly what was going on here. Everyone else saw an asshole, small-time reality star, but he knew self-medication when he saw it.

“Well, I think that’s something you and I can agree on, Buddy, but it’ll help if you’re sober. Hell, we can be wingmen.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Look, man, I know it can be hard to try something new, to put yourself out there.”

“Oh, I plan on putting parts of myself out there all right.”

“All I’m saying is just do you.”

“I do myself twice a day,” said Barry winking.

Paul smiled. “You are a madman. You know that?”

Barry grinned.

“What’s all of this talk about getting laid?” asked Angela from their open doorway.

Both Barry and Paul looked startled at her interjection.

“I don’t plan on doing much talking at all,” quipped Barry, taking another slug of his vodka.

“How ‘bout you, rich boy? You think flashing your Daddy’s money around is going to get you lucky?”

“It just might.”

“I could use some new Italian clothing, maybe some jewelry,” said Angela smiling, and she left the doorway.

“That bitch is hot and cold,” said Barry.

“I know,” said Paul grinning. “Isn’t she fascinating?”

Jamie stood in the bathroom washing his face. The cool water felt good on his skin as he looked at himself in the mirror. He saw Nico looking back at him, berating him with his glare. He closed his eyes and shook that image away. He replaced it with thoughts of Barry’s muscular build, Paul’s sexy swagger, and then Jenna in a skimpy costume depicting some slutty Japanese anime character.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

As Stefania led the group down the main boulevard, she kept a nervous eye on Barry. He had to have been sobering up, but he was trailing the group. She was afraid he was going to fall and hurt himself.

Then she saw Paul holding court with Angela. She couldn’t tell if Angela was bothered, into it, or toying with him, but Paul didn’t care.

“Paul.”

He looked at Stefania. “Yes?”

“You’re a big guy. Do me a favor and look after our celebrity back there?”

He looked mildly annoyed at having been interrupted in his flirting with Angela, but he smiled at the reference of his being a ‘big guy.’ “Sure thing, Stefania.”

Paul bowed slightly to Angela, who rolled hers eyes but wore a mischievous grin. She truly was a mess of mixed signals. He dropped back between Lucy and Jenna, skirted around Jamie, and fell alongside Barry.

“Hi,” said Barry wearily.

“You okay, buddy?”

Barry smirked. “I’ll be all right once the town stops spinning.”

“Well, I’ll be your wingman. How’s that sound?”

“Fine by me, partner.”

Jenna shot a nervous glance back at Barry. Lucy pursed her lips in disapproval. Jamie wasn’t sure if he was pleased that Angela was freed up or displeased that Barry was now taken. Stefania wondered if she made a mistake pairing Paul up with Barry in a grown-up buddy system.

“To the left is the Victoria Hotel, and next to it is a café that serves excellent Italian coffee, gelato, and Panettone,” continued Stefania.

“Great,” blurted out Barry, “I came here for pussy, and she’s talking about coffee and ice cream.”

“Whoa, take it easy, pal,” said Paul, putting his arm around him to steady Barry and stifle him.

Stefania shot him daggers.

“Excuse me,” said Jenna. “What’s Pannetone?”

“It’s a sweet bread with raisins in it,” explained Lucy.

“That’s right,” said Stefania impressed, or at least she feigned to be impressed. She was probably just relieved that the rest of the group was still with her.

They followed Stefania further down the main boulevard. “To the right is the police station, and next to it a convenience store for medicine, cigarettes, and things like that.”

“Hey, Paul,” Barry slurred, “let’s pick up a few packs, you know, for after all the sex were not going to have on this tour.”

“That’s for damn sure,” said Lucy.

Jenna giggled.

They entered the town square. It was filled with teens on skateboards and various pedestrians. There was a group of boys sitting on a wall across the square from several young girls on benches. It reminded Lucy of Catholic school dances from her youth—boys lined up on one wall and girls on the other.

“Lots of people out at this hour for a Thursday night,” remarked Jamie.

“Yes, that’s because all of the shops close around midday and everyone takes a rest. Everything reopens around five o’clock,” explained Stefania.

“A midday rest. Sounds like heaven to me,” said Lucy.

“Yeah, too bad the United States doesn’t have that kind of work day schedule,” added Jenna.

“Oh, you all are fortunate to be born in America,” said Stefania with a strange sort of reverence.

Angela looked dubious. “Why’s that?”

“In America there’s lots of opportunity. If you work hard, you can do well.” The significance of this comment was lost on Angela, Barry, and Paul; but Lucy, Jenna, and Jamie were paying attention. “You pay some taxes, but that’s it. The government doesn’t tell you what to do.”

“Why? They do here?” asked Jamie.

“You can start a business, but there are regulations, and then taxes, then you have to pay the local boss who always has his hand out. By the time you’re finished, there’s not much left for yourself.”

“That’s so sad,” said Jenna.

“Hey, what’s that?” shouted Barry.

He pointed to a small storefront with blacked out windows and a neon sign that read ‘Feral Hearts.’

Stefania frowned. “That is a blight on our town.”

This intrigued Paul, because it signified something naughty. “What is it, a strip club or something?”

“Yes,” said Stefania, her brow furrowed. About two years ago we had a wave of Russian women emigrating to the region. Real crude women. Harlots…I shouldn’t be telling you about this.”

“Finally, something interesting,” said Paul. “Do tell. Do tell.”

They descended on Derosso like a plague, beautiful but with no manners or scruples. They would march into shops demanding immediate service, cursing the staff and customers. The local boss took them in, which means that the police turned a blind eye. This place opened, and these…women preyed upon the men of this town.”

“Sounds like heaven to me,” said Paul, mirroring Lucy’s prior remark about the Italian work day. She rolled her eyes, and he winked at her.

“First it was just the tourists,” continued Stefania. “Then it was the young men. Before long, married men and even old men frequented the club, destroying marriages and families. The police didn’t interfere as long as the girls stayed inside the club and didn’t harass the other residents and their businesses.”

“Sounds like the type of place that would liven up this tour,” said Barry.

“It’s not a good place,” said Stefania. “There will be plenty of opportunity for romance later on the tour. Now, if you follow me…”

“I don’t want to follow you,” said Barry. “I want to go in there.”

“Maybe we should just let him,” said Lucy. “Then we could enjoy the tour in peace.”

“Yeah,” said Barry, “and maybe I can get a piece.”

“Let him go,” said Lucy.

“Paul will babysit him,” said Angela, winking at him.

Stefania hesitated for a moment. She really believed, despite Barry’s crude behavior, she should do her best to dissuade Barry and Paul from going into that viper’s nest for their own good.

“They’re big boys,” said Jenna. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know the kind of parasites that live in there,” warned Stefania.

“I think it’s the ladies in there that need to be worried,” laughed Angela.

“Care to join us?” Paul asked Angela. “Broaden your horizons?”

“No thanks. You two enjoy.”

“How ‘bout you, Jamie?”

Jenna immediately looked worried, and she unwittingly grabbed Lucy’s arm.

“I’ll pass,” said Jamie, to Jenna’s very apparent relief.

“C’mon, Stefania, let’s see the rest of Derosso,” said Lucy.

Stefania looked as if she wanted to say something. “If any of the girls invites you back to a house just outside of town, don’t go.”

Barry looked at Paul. “I don’t get it. This is a single’s retreat, is it not?”

“This club is not part of the tour,” insisted Stefania.

“We’ll take our chances,” said Barry.

Stefania pursed her lips. “Okay, the rest of you come and follow me. You two, be careful.”

Paul bowed his head graciously. “I’m always careful.”

Jamie and the ladies walked off through the square.

“Well, looks like it’s just us kids,” said Paul. “We’ll go in, but stick with me. You’re in no shape to go wandering off. We don’t want to go and piss off the management with drunken antics, agreed?”

“You sound like my mother,” said Barry. “I want to have a good time.”

“And a good time you shall have. Trust me. I’m a man a little too accustomed to paying for female attention.”

* * *

Paul and Barry entered a very tinted front door into a black-lit foyer. A very large bouncer stood before another tinted door with the beats of house music thumping behind it.

“Ten euro each,” said the bouncer.

Paul began to reach into his pocket, but Barry grabbed his wrist. “I’ve got this.”

“Thank you.”

Barry reached into his pocket and produced twenty euro. He handed it to the bouncer, who stepped aside and opened the door. The foyer was immediately filled with techno music and glittering lights.

“Have a good time,” said the bouncer with a gravity incommensurate with the scenario.

“Thank you,” replied Paul. He and Barry stepped into the Feral Hearts Club.

It was like many strip clubs that both Paul and Barry had frequented on many an occasion. It was dark, and there were lounge chairs sprinkled about around small stages accommodating one stripper, each dancing around a pole. There was a small deejay booth in the corner where a twenty-something guy was working a laptop. There was a hallway on the other side of the room that no doubt led to some champagne room. The air conditioning was blasting, and the main room smelled like cigars and sweat.

“Home sweet home,” said Paul, shouting over the music. “Let’s grab a seat, shall we?”

He led Barry to a couple of comfortable-looking chairs set back away from the nearest stage (he didn’t want Barry right on top of a stripper in his current state), and they sat. Immediately a waitress bustled over to them. “Volete qualcosa da bere?”

“What did she say?” asked Barry, shouting in Paul’s ear.

“I think ‘what do we want to drink?’”

“Tell her I want a vodka and cranberry.”

“I think you should slow down, Barry.” Paul held two fingers up. “Two beers, por favore.”

The waiterss nodded and walked off.

Paul and Barry looked around the room, drinking in the black-lit dancers. In the lighting, their lipstick and g-strings were luminescent. Paul felt like he was in the negative of a photo.

The room was filled with mostly middle-aged men, a few elderly men even. Some of the men were leaning over the stage, conversing with the dancers as they slid euros across to them. The elderly men had strippers planted in their laps, whispering in their ears as the old men laughed. Stefania wasn’t kidding about this place.

The waitress came back and placed two beers on the small table in front of them. “Venti.”

“I’ve got this,” insisted Paul, who was quite used to treating his…companions of the moment. Barry didn’t protest.

They sipped their cool beers, and it was only moments before a stripper approached Paul. She was a brunette with wavy, shoulder-length hair, a lithe body, crimson lips, and piercing eyes. He saw that she locked eyes with him from across the room. She smiled, eying him hungrily, and she sauntered across the room.

He knew that look. It wasn’t his first time in a strip club; he knew she was hungry for his cash. But hey, why let the truth get in the way of a good lie?

She slid right into Paul’s lap like she belonged there, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear. Her hot breath in his ear caused a stirring in his pants. She said something in Italian with what seemed like a Russian accent that he didn’t understand. When he didn’t respond, she spoke in English. “Hello, handsome. What’s your name?”

“Paul,” he whispered in her ear. His left hand found the small of her back, and his right slid onto her toned thigh. Her skin was soft, and he was hard.

“Hello, Paul. Where are you from?” Her voice was like smooth velvet on his brain.

“Here and there.”

“Ah, an Englishman. I love Englishmen. I find them so delicious.”

He bet her pussy was delicious. He knew the game and how to play it. “What is your name, gorgeous?”

“Viktoriya. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words rolled right off her tongue like butter. She was good at this. Very good. The strippers in the UK were starting to look lazy. Wait a minute…

Was this the Viktoriya his friend on the forums talked about? Was Feral Hearts the brothel?

“Are you here on vacation?”

“My friend and I—”

“I do not care about your friend. I’m talking to you,” she said.

“I’m here on vacation.” He didn’t dare tell her he was on a singles tour. He’d never get rid of her until he hadn’t a euro left to his name.

“Where are you staying?”

Nosy wench. He didn’t want to say. “The Derosso Grande.”

“Are you…looking for love?”

Was this bitch writing a book? “I’m looking for some fun.”

She smiled, her teeth bleached in the black light of the room. “Oh, I love fun.”

“Well, it seems we have so much in common.”

“Are you making fun of me, Paul?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“I can become pure fun, Paul. Let’s go for a private dance.”

He looked over at Barry, but she turned his head back to her with her finger, her long nail pinching the skin under his chin. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a big boy. Let’s have a private dance.”

He didn’t want to. “Okay.”

She stood up and offered him her hand. He took it, stood, and was immediately self-conscious about the massive tent he was pitching. Viktoriya looked down at the bulge in his crotch and put a finger to her crimson lips, acting as if she was impressed. She then led him across the room as he looked back at Barry sheepishly. Barry waved a dismissive hand, gesturing for him to have fun and not worry about it.

So much for Paul as a wingman. He was flying solo, led by a Russian MiG into dangerous territory. He just hoped that Barry didn’t upset the establishment while he was gone.

Viktoriya led Paul into the hallway, which had several curtained doorways to what must’ve been the private rooms. She led him to the end and drew the last curtain on the left, gesturing for him to go in.

He entered the small cubicle, which consisted of a wooden chair and a small, round table. The room looked clean, but there was no black light back here, so there was no way to be certain. It was no accident.

“Please, sit.”

Paul sat, assuming the position for a lap dance—slouched and legs apart to maximize crotch-to-crotch contact. She placed his beer on the table…funny, he didn’t remember her bringing it.

“Twenty euro per song, Sweetie.”

Right. Silly him, he almost forgot. Business first. He reached into his wallet and handed her twenty euro. She placed it on the table next to his beer. He reached out and grabbed his beer, took a deep slug, and placed it back on the table next to the money.

“Comfortable?” she asked.

“Quite.”

“Good.”

Barry was getting bored with sitting away from a stage, so he grabbed his cold beer and stood up. He found a seat in front of a stage with a tattooed blonde stripper dancing. He decided this was a good spot and planted himself in front of her. Her back was turned, as she was talking to another guest. She had a really nice ass. The tattooed serpent winding from her back up and along her side was impressive, if he did say so himself.

Her head popped up, and she looked back over her shoulder at him. She whispered something to the old fuck she was talking to, and she turned around. She smiled down at Barry, who nodded clumsily to her. The thumping techno music cross-faded into a slower groove, and she began to dance.

Barry watched her writhe to the music, her white g-string and the whites of her eyes glowing. The alcohol must’ve been wearing off, because he had the beginnings of an erection watching her slink around the pole. She had a nice flat stomach, firm tits, and long legs.

He reached out for his beer…wait…it was a red cocktail. That’s right. He wanted a vodka and cranberry. He took a long sip, reached into his pocket, and pulled out some bills. He slid a couple onto the stage. She backed up onto the pole, slid down on her back, and squatted, picking up the bills. She reached out and stroked the bottom of his chin with her right index finger…

…he was leaning back in his seat and her back was still to the pole in the middle of the stage, but he didn’t want to ponder the impossible physics of her reach at that particular moment. She jumped, grabbing the pole, and she swung her legs out. She twirled around the pole, sliding down slowly to the sublime music that was filling the room and Barry’s ears.

She stood and, holding the pole with her right hand, twirled around. Barry leaned in as his eyes caught something in the strange lighting. He narrowed his eyes as he studied her amazing body and was not quite sure if he really saw what he thought he was seeing.

The serpent tattoo was slithering around her body as she twirled.

* * *

Stefania led Lucy, Jenna, Angela, and Jamie up a long street on the outer edge of town. She stopped in front of a building with a large dome surrounded by high walls. Stefania waited as everyone gathered in close around her.

“Can anyone guess what this building is?”

“A planetarium,” offered Jenna.

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” said Lucy.

“It’s a sanitarium,” said Stefania.

“A nut house?” asked Jamie.

“A place for the mentally-ill,” said Stefania. “Unfortunately, as of late, this institution has been filled with many of the older men in our region.”

“That’s strange,” said Lucy. “Mental illness doesn’t normally begin later in life.”

“She’s a psychologist,” said Jenna.

She wasn’t licensed yet, but Lucy didn’t bother correcting Jenna. It was a common mistake that wasn’t worth correcting in social scenarios.

“That may be so,” said Stefania, “but the place is almost at capacity. Old men howling at the moon, claiming that they see witches in the darkness. Husbands and fathers who disappear for days and return with sexually transmitted diseases and madness on their brains.”

“What do you think that is?’ Jenna asked Lucy.

“Fugue. Dementia.”

Stefania leaned in, her face serious. “I shouldn’t be sharing this with you, but some say it’s the plague of Russian prostitutes that has infested our region.”

“You really don’t like them, do you?” asked Angela.

“Trust me,” said Stefania, “if they moved into your neighborhood, you wouldn’t either.”

* * *

Viktoriya slid her tongue in Paul’s mouth as her fingers worked his crotch. It was wet and tasted like olives. She rubbed his swollen member through his pants, and he was fighting not to explode. If he came, then it would be over and he didn’t want this feeling to end.

It was the sixth song…or was it the tenth. He’d lost track, throwing more bills onto the small table willy-nilly.

Her tits pressed up against his chest. The fingers of her other hand traced up his shirt and tore it open, sending his buttons flying in every which way. It was an expensive shirt, but at the moment he didn’t give a shit. She lightly scratched his chest with her long nails as she nibbled his neck.

Fuck my Dad. This is what he wanted me to give up? He was nuts. These were the thoughts that filled his mind, though he wasn’t certain if by his own volition. I have a disease, all right; I’m sick of people telling me to straighten out and settle down. Marriage and family are a curse. Husbands and fathers are walking dead men, yoked to poor, irrevocable decisions they made in moments of weakness. Not me. I want to stay free. Master of my own destiny.

Viktoriya released his neck and held his face in her hands as she licked her teeth, her eyes boring into his. She pressed her bare breasts up against his bare chest. His heart pounded, drowning out her hearbeat, and he was panting like an animal.

“I like you, Paul.” She reached back to the table and handed him his cold beer. It was full as if the cap had just been popped off. “Come back with me, after the club closes. We have a house, all of the girls together. Come back with me, and I promise I will fuck you to death.”

He drank greedily from his beer, the skunk of it melding with his sweat and hers, a sickly sweet elixir filling his nostrils as he struggled to catch his breath. He knew it was a bad idea. It was an extraordinarily bad idea. A single man out alone in a foreign country. This bitch was going to rob him.

Viktoriya undid his belt buckle and yanked it off of him. She slung it around his neck and pulled him forward, kissing him deeply. Now her mouth tasted like brandy with a faint aftertaste of copper as she sucked on his tongue. When she pulled away from him, slowly releasing his tongue, she reached her hand in his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock.

“Paul, you seem like the kind of man who is very decisive. You don’t worry about trivial things like right and wrong. You take what you want. You live for pleasure. That is what I offer you.” She squeezed. “Don’t think. Do. Come back with me.”

“I-I-I don’t pay for sex,” Paul lied.

“Who said anything about paying?”

The truth was, he had already paid and then some back in this room. This was just the final step. What was it that Stefania said? Since they met, something in the far recesses of his reasoning cautioned him about Viktoriya, but that voice had grown successively dimmer throughout the night, and it was now only a faint echo in a deep cave, crying out alone in the dark void.

“Don’t think, Paul. If you think about it, you’ll pull yourself out of the moment. Stay in the moment with me, Paul. I will fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

Somehow he didn’t doubt it. She stood up and reached out her hand again, and again Paul took it.

They walked back out into the main room, which had thinned out considerably. The tourists had left and the regulars had remained, pumping their life savings into Feral Hearts. They found Barry sitting with the blonde stripper in his lap, the tattoo of a serpent slithering up her side from her back. Its forked tongue licked her neck.

“Barry, I’m going to go with…”

“I know. I’m going too.”

* * *

Jenna lay awake in her bed thinking of the café at the end of Stefania’s tour. She strategically placed herself next to Jamie at his table. Lucy sat with Stefania and Angela to give Jenna her space, for which Jenna was extremely grateful.

They talked and talked. Jamie, as it ended up, was a bit of a homebody as well and somewhat versed in geek culture. Most importantly, he was a cat person. Jenna imagined how proud Doctor Ed would be of her, but her private reverie was cut short by raised voices in the hallway.

Lucy turned on the light. “Is that Barry?”

“And Paul I think.”

Lucy looked at the clock—2:10 am. “They must be drunk.”

They listened intently as they heard one of the guys frantically fumbling with the lock on their door. It sounded like Barry was crying. They barged into their room, slamming the door behind them. Lucy and Jenna heard their conversation through the walls.

‘What the fuck did you do? What did you do?’

‘I had to! She turned into a fucking monster! A fucking she-bitch monster!’

‘Now they’ll be looking for us, you asshole!’

‘Hey, man, she fucking bit me! What was I supposed to do?’

“Something’s wrong,” said Lucy, jumping out of bed. “Stay here.”

Lucy threw her door open and banged on the next door.

‘Who the fuck is that?’ she heard one of them say through the door.

“It’s Lucy. You guys are waking the dead with your racket!”

The door flew open. It was Paul. His hair was wild. He was panting, sweating profusely, and his shirt was shredded in front. “Why did you say that?”

“What?”

“Why did you say we woke the dead? Why did you fucking say that?”

“Oh my God, are you on something?”

“Close that fucking door!” she heard Barry scream from behind Paul. “You’ll let them in!”

“Let who in?”

Paul grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in. He went to slam the door shut, but Jenna was in the doorway. “What is this, a fucking convention? Get in here!”

Jenna obediently jumped into the room and Paul slammed the door, locking it and putting up the chain. He peeked through the peephole.

Lucy was more annoyed than frightened. “What are you guys—”

Jenna grabbed her arm. “Lucy, look at Barry.”

Barry’s clothes were torn up, and he had blood all over the front of him. He was pressing his hand to a wound on his neck.

“Barry, are you all right?”

“Do I fucking look all right to you, Lucy?”

“What happened?”

* * *

Viktoriya came marching up the street on the edge of town towards the sanitarium, her fellow ladies in tow as her grisly entourage. Their faces were demoniacally contorted, fangs bared, and eyes glowing like hot coals in the black of night. They stopped short of the tall wall in front of the building.

Viktoriya turned and faced her army. “The one named Barry killed Anya, like she was nothing. NOTHING! We do not allow our food to treat us so. They’re merely cattle, and so we must slaughter them as such.”

She turned and hopped the wall like a child hopping scotch. Her ladies followed. They stalked across the grounds in the moonlight like fearsome wraiths. When they reached a locked metal door, Viktoriya tore it of the hinges like it was made of cardboard.

As they entered the building, the inpatients began to howl maniacally.

“Free them! Free them all!”

The ladies began to rip open doors, and inpatients came pouring out, surrounding Victoriya, their faces twisted with evil and rage for their master.

“We find them before sunrise! Bring me their genitalia on a silver platter so that I might feast on their manhood as they watch in terror! This, your master commands you!”

There was a great commotion as the inpatients ran outside, screaming into the night, their eyes glowing like feral cats in the cool, summer night as they raced against the dawn with murder in their icy hearts.

* * *

“What do you mean vampires?”

“I’m telling you, Lucy, they were fucking vampires,” said Barry pacing back and forth frantically.

“Paul, did he take anything while you were at that club?” asked Lucy.

“If he did, then I took the same drug myself.”

“So you murdered a stripper? We have to go to the police.”

“No! No police!” Barry ran right up to Lucy and got in her face. “They’ll throw me in jail, and then those monsters will definitely get me!”

“You heard Stefania,” said Paul. “The police are in on the whole thing. We’re fucked.”

Jenna was by the window looking out the front of the hotel onto the main street. “Uh, Lucy, I think you should see this.”

“See what?”

Jenna’s face was white. “Just come over here.”

Lucy stepped around Barry, who was beside himself. “They’re here? They’re fucking here? They found us! We’re fucked.”

Lucy stood in front of the window and saw what Jenna was so frightened by. There was a horde of scantily-clad women stalking up the block, pale as moonlight and eyes glowing. They were surrounded by hunched over forms with glowing eyes, baying at the moon like a bunch of lunatics.

Lucy’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck?”

“Look! Is that…Jamie?” cried Jenna.

“It is,” gasped Lucy.

Jamie walked across the courtyard in front of the house and waited for Viktoriya. She drifted over the grass and stood before him, her eyes burning their hideous conflagration in her skull. She licked her teeth in a simultaneously sensual and predatory display.

“You’ve done well, Jamie.”

“Does this make us square? Will you finally leave me alone?”

“They are inside?” she asked, tilting her head, her eyes now black like infinite tar pools pulling Jamie in.

“Yes, and there are others.”

“You are free,” she hissed. “But first I need your assistance…”

Part III

The Alternate Endings

How do you like your stake?

Chapter 11

Alternate Ending #1

The Count

Edward P. Cardillo

Barry and Paul found themselves on a couch, but it wasn’t in Feral Hearts and they had no idea how they had arrived there. Viktoriya was sitting beside Paul stroking the hair on the back of his head. The blonde with the snake tattoo was sitting on Barry’s lap, pressing on his massive erection.

“Is-is this your place?” Paul asked.

“Yes, it is, Paul. Do you like it?” Viktoryia asked in a thick Russian accent.

“I do.”

She leaned over, pressing her ample breasts on him, and whispered in his ear. “My Paul, I promised you something in the club, and I plan on delivering. So, let me ask you, do you want to get fucked to death?”

Paul smirked, but he was feeling woozy. “Is that a trick question?”

Viktoriya answered him by sticking her tongue in his ear. It was warm and wet and elicited an immediate response in Paul’s pants. He looked over at Barry, who was making out with his stripper ferociously. It looked as if the two were trying to devour each other.

Viktoriya pressed a clawed finger to Paul’s chin and turned his head to face her. “Let’s leave them and find somewhere…a little more private.”

“Sure.”

They rose from the couch. Viktoriya took Paul’s hand and led him out of the room.

Barry pulled away from his blonde stripper, who was licking her lips. Even though it had been a few hours since his last drink, he felt absolutely intoxicated. “What’s your name?”

There must’ve been a fire burning in the hearth on the other side of the room. The dancing flames cast odd shadows about the room. The light caught the more angular surfaces of her face, making her look sinister. “Anya. What is yours, my love?”

“Barry.”

The fingers of her left hand traced the buttons down his shirt. With deft flicks of her fingers, she popped the buttons off, one-by-one.

“Hey, that’s an expensive shirt.”

She scratched his skin, dragging her nails down his chest and his washboard abs until she reached his pants. One-handed, she unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pant loops slowly, gazing into his eyes with a hungry look.

“You’re some piece of work, you know that?” he said, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He thought about the red cocktail, but she pulled off his pants and he forgot all about it.

She smiled impishly, hell-bent on carnal knowledge of this man she just met. She tore off his boxers, leaving him bare-assed on the leather couch. He found the feeling rather sensual.

She pulled his legs apart and leaned over, accepting him into her warm, moist mouth.

Barry tipped back his head as she worked on him, the pleasure swirling in his brain, making his mind ache. He felt like Dorothy sliding down the rabbit hole, and man was he enjoying the ride.

Right before he was about to explode, she released him and ran her tongue across his abs and up his chest until their mouths met. Barry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as she thrust her tongue inside his mouth.

Anya pulled away, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. Odd, to have a fire in the middle of summer…but Barry looked around the room and didn’t see an actual fire. Yet, when he looked up at the ceiling, light and shadow danced about.

Paul was led into a small bedroom with a large bed. Viktoriya stepped behind him to close the door for privacy. She came up from behind, sliding her hands around his shoulders and then down his body. Her hands reached in front and undid his belt buckle and fly. His pants slid down his legs and to the floor.

His shirt, already open from the club, was pulled off of him and he stood there naked before Viktoriya. She began to kiss his neck, tasting the sweat and salt. Her hands slipped in front and slid over and over him. Her fangs began to extend as she emitted a guttural sound. When she gripped his manhood, she bit into his neck simultaneously, the pairing of pleasure and pain; it was to be Paul’s final cocktail.

Anya sat on Barry, sliding him inside her as he ran his hands over her hips and stomach. Her face took on odd proportions in the strange light, at times making her appear demonic. However, the thrill of the moment and his racing heart drowned out any protective fears that struggled to find voice in his mind.

His heartbeat sounded out in the dark like a drum to Anya, calling to her, beckoning the beast within. Her eyes glinted as her fangs extended slowly, her own erection of sorts. She lowered herself so that her body was flush against his. She felt his heart pounding through his chest against her own.

As she writhed against him, she sunk her fangs into his neck. He cried out, but it quickly turned into a whimper as he suffered the sweet agony of the vampire’s kiss. He could only lay there as she drained his fluids from his body.

He was ready for the ultimate release, frightened but powerless to do anything in the name of self-preservation. He was a dead man, and he knew it.

Then he heard an odd sound from other room, on the edge of his diminishing consciousness.

It was a sound that didn’t belong, given the circumstances. It was a sound that drew his attention and served as an anchor into this world, preventing him from slipping into the next.

“What is that?”

Anya pulled away from his neck, licking the blood off of her lips. “Nothing, my love.”

“No, that’s definitely something.”

Anya hissed, baring her fangs. Her veil of illusion was lifting, and Barry started to see her for what she was as the fog in his mind began to clear, if only for a moment. There was a pang of revulsion that gripped his body and a sudden urgency for life.

He tried to get off the couch, but Anya shoved him down as he heard the strange sound calling out to him on the edge of the fog, calling him back to the here and now.

“Get off me.”

Anya laughed and clutched him tighter beneath her.

“I said GET OFF.” Barry used all of his remaining strength to roll off of the couch, taking Anya with him onto the floor. Now he was on top. He tried to push up off of the floor, but she clung to him, hissing at him and clawing at his chest.

He remembered his mixed martial arts training. He stood up slowly, baring her weight, as she sunk her teeth into his neck again. Her legs tightened around his waist as the serpent inked on the side of her body slithered on her skin. He caught a glimpse of himself a mirror, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

The reflection showed him standing, naked, with a large serpent wrapped around him, its teeth buried in his neck, pumping its venom into him. In a panic, he ran across the room and slammed into a wooden table, bringing down his full weight. The table collapsed and they both fell to the ground.

He groaned as he felt the life being drained from his body and replaced with…something else.

He reached out, clawing the tile floor in desperation as she tightened herself around him, squeezing out his will to live. He pushed himself up off the floor again, struggled to a standing position, and slammed her down again on the hard floor.

The force of the blow momentarily broke the link, and he wrestled her, pinning her to the ground as the world rushed back into focus. “What the fuck are you?”

“You’ll see,’ she taunted, laughing as his blood dripped down her chin and the sides of her face.

He grabbed a wooden table leg and began to beat her with it, striking her face repeatedly. He became frustrated when his blows appeared to have no effect. Anya laughed at him, her eyes wild and her face horribly contorted as she tightened her grip on him.

In desperation Barry turned the table leg and drove the jagged edge down, plunging it right into her heart. For all of her strength, her flesh gave way under the wood, like butter yielding to a hot knife, and her laughter ended in a yelp.

Her eyes widened with panic as she gripped the table leg. Horrible sounds came out of her mouth as she flopped around the on floor like a fish on the deck of a fisherman’s boat. This time it was Barry who tightened his grip on her, putting all of his weight on the improvised wooden stake.

Her skin tightened on her face as she began to wither beneath him. Frightened, he let go as her form shrunk into a desiccated skeleton, her curves and bust wilting, until all that was left was a mummy with fangs lying motionless.

Barry staggered to his feet, swaying as he fought vertigo, laughing hysterically at the horror of what he’d just done. He heard that sound, that sweet sound that saved his life, and he shambled out of the room to find it.

He stumbled into the hallway, clutching the wound on his neck, feeling his own warm, sticky blood on his fingers. The bleeding was thankfully slowing to a stop.

He leaned against the wall as he made his way down a hallway. The sounds were coming from a room to his left. Compelled to lay eyes on the source, he slowly opened the door. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the candle light.

His sense of hope withered as the reality of what he saw sank in.

On a large wooden table in what was a kitchen were two infants. They kicked their legs and cooed as a vampire cooed back at them, stroking their tender feet with clawed fingers as it licked its fangs. The infants gurgled and blew bubbles, blissfully unaware of the ghastliness of their situation.

Barry knew what they were there for.

Paul was drifting off slowly into what was to become an eternal and dreamless sleep when Viktoriya released him from her kiss. The world rushed back into focus and he was horrified by what he saw. The veneer of seduction was lifted, and he saw Viktoriya for the monster that his instinct told him she was.

Her eyes went wild as his blood ran down her chin. “NOOOOOO!” She leapt into the air, hissed angrily, and dashed out of the room.

Paul wasted no time. He grabbed his pants and shirt as he heard shrill cries of the undead throughout the villa and scratching on the walls outside his room.

Barry picked up speed as he reached out for the door handle. He heard angry howls behind him as he threw open the door and spilled out into the night. Finding strength again, he ran with all of his might away from the house. He saw Derosso in the distance, darkened and slumbering in the night.

He had to make it back.

He heard their banshee wails as they searched for him in the moonlight. He cried out as hands clamped down on his shoulders. Christ, they were fast.

He wheeled around to face his horror.

“Barry, what the fuck happened?”

“Paul, thank God. They’re-they’re monsters. We gotta get back to Derosso before they find us. They’ve got babies. Fucking babies.”

“What did you do, Barry? What did you do?”

“I killed one of them. Anya. I fucking killed her, man.”

Paul shook Barry. “Get it together, man. We got to get the fuck out of Dodge.”

The two men fled into the night with hell right on their heels.

* * *

Paul ran to the window, shoving Lucy and Jenna aside. “What the fuck is Jamie doing down there? Why aren’t they killing him?” He looked at Jenna. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” said Jenna blushing. Then she saw the bite marks on his neck.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Great. Can we please put our sex glands on-hold and figure out how we’re going to get out of here?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” said Barry. “If we go out there, they’ll get us.”

“You mean they’ll get you,” corrected Lucy.

Barry stabbed a finger in the air. “Hey, we’re in this together.”

There was a knock at the door. Jenna grabbed Lucy’s arm and Barry and Paul jumped out of their skin.

“Oh shit! They’re here!” cried Paul.

‘What’s going on in there?’ a voice asked from the other side of the door.

“It’s Angela, you moron,” said Lucy. She walked across the room and opened the door. Angela was standing there.

“What’s the racket?”

“Don’t let her in!” said Barry pointing an accusatory finger at Angela. “We don’t know if she’s one of them!”

“You let me and Jenna in, you idiot,” said Lucy, pulling Angela into the room and locking the door behind her.

Angela looked at Barry and then Paul. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

“We got attacked by fucking vampires, that’s what happened,” said Barry running his hands through his hair.

“What?”

“Come look outside and see,” said Jenna still standing by the window.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” said Angela.

“Look out the window,” said Lucy. “Something weird is going on.”

“We’re going to die, that’s what’s going on!” shouted Barry.

Lucy slapped him so hard that she sent blood spattering from his face. He stood there stunned in silence.

Angela walked over to the window and looked out. “Oh my God. What the fuck is going on? Why is Jamie out there?”

“He’s talking to them,” said Jenna, hugging herself. “I can’t imagine about what?”

Suddenly Barry’s wound began to throb.

“Jesus, Barry, are you all right?” asked Lucy, noticing his two puncture wounds on his neck pulsating and oozing blood.

“What a stupid question, Lucy. Of course, I’m not all right. One of those bitches bit me on the neck. I probably have a fucking disease now.”

“Here, let me see.” Lucy walked over to him and inspected the wound on his neck, careful not to touch it. “Holy shit, two puncture marks.”

“No kidding,” said Barry. “Is that your official diagnosis as a phony doctor?”

“I’m sorry, Barry.”

“Still think I’m on drugs now?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“We should be thinking on what we need to do about those…people outside,” insisted Angela.

“They don’t look like they’re coming in so far,” said Jenna looking over Angela’s shoulder and out the window.

“What assistance do you need from me?” asked Jamie. “I already led you to Barry and Paul.”

Viktoriya’s mouth yawned open, exposing her fangs, and she grabbed Jamie by the throat. She turned his head sideways, exposing his neck, and she sunk her teeth into his neck.

Jamie convulsed in her grip as she drew blood from his body. He sprouted an erection in his pants as he fell limp in her grip, the helpless mouse in the mouth of the cat. After a moment, she released him, licking her teeth as thick red syrup dripped from her chin. She then slipped her left breast out into the night air and made a small incision with her fingernail right under her nipple. More red syrup leaked out. “Drink, my child.”

Jamie didn’t want to, but he did as he was told. He couldn’t resist her eyes. He reached up and suckled the blood from her breast. After a moment, Viktoriya gently lifted his head away.

Weakened, Jamie dropped to one knee. “I-I thought you said you’d set me free.”

“I did,” said Viktoriya. “Free from illness, old age, and death.”

“It’s not what I wanted.”

“Isn’t it? Isn’t it exactly what you wanted? To live in the shadows in anonymity. To take love as you saw fit without having to return it, like you did with Nico.”

Jamie rose to his feet. “You leave him out of this. He was a sick person.”

“Which is why I…took care of him for you,” cackled Viktoriya picking her teeth with a long fingernail. “You deserve better. Another one of my gifts to you.”

Jamies eyes went wide. “Wh-wh—”

“Yes. I told you from the beginning that you belong to me.”

“You fucking bitch!”

“Your fucking master!” Her eyes burned in her head, stifling his outrage, stamping it out. “And don’t you forget it!”

Jamie bowed his head to avoid the spurn of her gaze. “What do you ask of me…my Master?”

“Go inside. Bring them to me. The rest of you, surround the hotel! No one gets out!”

“Oh my God!” cried Jenna. “That woman bit Jamie!”

“Let me see,” said Lucy, shoving her way to the window. “They’re talking again. Why would Jamie just let her do that?”

“Maybe he didn’t have much of a choice,” said Angela.

“She’s right,” said Paul. “When I was at Feral Hearts, that woman down there got me to go back into the champagne room with her. She got me to answer questions I didn’t want to answer. I told her where we were staying.”

“You what?” asked Lucy, outraged. She ran over to Paul and slapped him hard in the face. He stood there and took it, a tear streaming down his face. She slapped him a second time. She raised her hand a third time, but Angela caught it. “Lucy, don’t.”

Jenna looked down and gasped as she saw Jamie sucking the woman’s breast. She put her hand over her mouth, riddled with jealousy and disappointment.

Lucy pointed an accusatory finger at Paul. “This asshole led them here because he was thinking with his dick!”

“If they’re what we think they are, he probably didn’t have a choice,” said Angela.

Lucy lowered her hand. Angela walked back over to the window. “Those hunched over things…they spread out. They’ve surrounded the hotel. Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” asked Paul.

“It’s Jamie,” said Angela. “He’s looking right up at our window. I think he sees me.”

Lucy and Paul crowded by the window while Barry, growing dizzy, sat down on the bed to rest a moment and collect himself.

“Let me in,” said Jamie. He was all the way down there, yet they each heard him clear as a bell, even Barry.

“Why is he asking to let us in? Can’t he just walk in through the door?” asked Angela.

“Because if he’s a…vampire, then he can’t come in unless…”

“…unless he’s invited,” said Paul, finishing Lucy’s thought. “Vampire 101.”

“Well, we sure as shit ain’t letting him in,” said Barry from the bed. “We ain’t letting any of those fucking monsters in.”

Lucy looked around the room. The small hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

“Where’s Jenna?”

* * *

They all looked at each other.

“Shit, she must’ve gone downstairs,” said Angela.

“Dammit, she was hot for Jamie,” said Lucy. “I hope she didn’t go to let him in.”

“Let’s go!” said Angela.

She and Lucy were running out of the room.

“Stay here!” Lucy commanded Barry. He held up a compliant hand.

Angela and Lucy ran out into the hallway and made a dash for the staircase. Paul was right behind them.

“Stay back with your friend, Paul!” shouted Lucy.

“I want to help!”

“Haven’t you done enough?”

“Lucy, stop it,” panted Angela.

They made it to the top of the stairs, and they saw Jenna walking slowly across the lobby to the front door, as if she was in a trance. Jamie was waiting just outside the front doors.

“Stop her!” Lucy cried out to the concierge, who ducked through a door behind the front desk, closing and locking it behind him.

She, Angela, and Paul raced down the stairs and ran across the lobby. Jenna was reaching out in front of her, reaching for her Jamie.

Paul was there first. He grabbed Jenna by the shoulders, but Jenna squirmed out of his grip. Angela and Lucy caught up and placed her in an awkward bear hug.

“No, Sweetite,” Lucy whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

Jenna ignored them and struggled to free herself.

Suddenly, the front doors flew open, and Jamie was standing there just outside the threshold. “Let me in, Jenna.” The cool night air crept into the lobby, probing with chilled fingers. Behind Jamie a thick fog covered the grounds, and they heard the howling of lunatics from within the soup.

Jenna opened her mouth to speak, but Paul quickly clamped his free hand over her mouth.

“Careful not to block her breathing!” said Lucy.

Paul shot her a you gotta be kidding me look. “I’m trying not to let her invite the vampires in.”

“Jenna, invite me in,” said Jamie. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not so bad. It didn’t even hurt.”

“Fuck you, buddy!” said Angela. “Get lost!”

“You get to be special,” continued Jamie ignoring Angela’s remarks. “You’ve always wanted to be special. I know you have.”

Jenna struggled to talk under Paul’s hand clamped over her mouth.

“Don’t listen to him, Jenna,” said Lucy. “You already are special.”

“Viktoriya doesn’t want to hurt you,” said Jamie. “She wants Barry and Paul. They killed a member of her family. Just let me in and no harm will come to you. I promise.”

“And I promise that you’ll never get in here,” said Angela. “So screw you and your whores.”

Jamie tore his gaze away from Jenna and looked at Angela. His eyes were unnerving. He grinned, revealing the tips of fangs. “Would you like to screw me and my whores, Angela? Would you like that? It wouldn’t be the first time for you.”

“Shut up,” demanded Angela. “You shut the fuck up. You don’t know me.”

“Ignore him,” said Lucy. “He’s trying to get inside your head.”

Jamie cocked his head sideways. His eyes were black hypnotic swirls, like quicksand drawing Angela in. The more she struggled, the deeper she sank. “Or perhaps you want to die, Angela. Then you could see your parents again.”

A tear rolled down Angela’s cheek. “Damn you.” It was the first chink in her well-constructed armor that she’d shown since the tour began.

“Ignore him,” said Lucy. “Let’s go back upstairs. We’ll be safe there.”

They all began to walk backwards, pulling Jenna across the carpet with them.

“You’ll only be safe with us,” implored Jamie. “We can protect you. I wouldn’t stay in there if I were you.”

“He’s full of shit,” said Angela, her mascara running. “Let’s get out of here.”

They turned Jenna around and made it to the bottom of the staircase. “I’ll get her arms, you get her legs,” said Paul. “We’ll carry her up.” However, as they began to grab her, Jenna cried out. “Jamie!” Paul quickly clamped his hand back over her mouth. Jenna began to thrash about.

“We’re not getting her up these stairs,” said Angela.

“Let’s get her in the elevator,” said Lucy.

They restrained Jenna and dragged her to the elevator as Jamie looked on, grinning like a predator watching the runt of the litter from afar. Angela mashed the button with her palm, and the elevator doors opened slowly with a ding. They dragged Jenna into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. Jamie never took his feral eyes off of them. The doors closed slowly, cutting off his view of them.

“What was he grinning about?” asked Angela.

“Let’s just regroup in the room,” said Lucy.

“What about the concierge?” asked Paul.

“I don’t think we have to worry about him,” said Lucy. “The chicken shit ran and hid. He doesn’t want those things in here with us any more than we do.”

The elevator slowed to a halt, and the doors slowly opened with another ding. Paul released his hand from Jenna’s mouth, and she began to scream and struggle. Barry’s room door was open.

“Barry! Get your ass out here! Help us get Jenna back in the room!” ordered Lucy as they tried to restrain Jenna. She didn’t seem to want to leave the elevator.

Barry came staggering out into the hallway with his head down. He looked drained.

“Barry! Shake a leg!” yelled Paul.

Barry looked up. His face was contorted, his eyes flashing like a cat’s in the dark, and he bore fangs. Saliva dripped from his jowls, and he growled at them like an animal.

“Oh shit,” gasped Paul.

A hapless tourist stuck his head out of his hotel room, right next to Barry. Barry grabbed his head and pulled him all the way out of his room, sinking his fangs into the poor bastard’s neck. A woman, still inside the room, screamed.

“Back in the elevator!” shouted Lucy as she and Angela shoved Jenna and Paul back into the elevator. Barry began to stalk down the hall towards them, the tourist’s blood dripping down his chin, picking up speed with each step.

Angela mashed the lobby button and the door close button repeatedly with her hand. There was a ding and the doors began to close slowly.

Barry was barreling down the long hallway like a freight train with hungry eyes and bared fangs. He reached out with long claws for them.

The doors shut as he collided with a heavy thud against the metal doors. The elevator began its slow descent to the lobby as they heard claws scratching at the metal on the other side.

“That was too close,” said Paul.

They all looked at each other in terror at how close they’d come to death. Even Jenna appeared subdued. After a moment, the elevator slowed to a stop. There was a ding and the doors slowly began to open.

“Paul…”

But it was too late.

“Jamie, come in!” Jenna shouted.

“Shit!”

They grabbed Jenna and dragged her out of the elevator.

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Jamie smiling, his eyes demonic. He now looked more monster than man.

“To the dining area!” Lucy shouted.

They began to drag a struggling Jenna around to the dining room when Paul tripped and fell over Jenna’s kicking legs. Jamie stepped into the lobby as several Russian vampire whores spilled in through the front doors with bared fangs.

Paul reached out in front of him as he saw the three girls disappear through the doors to the dining room. He began to push himself up, but the vampire whores glided across the carpet and were upon him in seconds, sinking their teeth into his flesh.

He yelped like a wounded puppy. Then he relaxed in their grip as they drained his blood and pumped their disease into his veins. They flipped him over on his back, and he saw Barry glide down the staircase.

A beautiful, porcelain skinned woman drifted into the lobby, the apparent leader of this ghastly group. “He’s mine!”

The other vampires released Paul from their lethal kisses and backed away in deference to Viktoriya. Viktoriya hissed at them, asserting her dominance. Paul was trembling as he bled on the carpet.

“Let me have him,” snarled Barry.

Viktoriya glared at him with wild eyes. “You are in no position to make demands.”

Paul lay frozen in terror on the floor of the lobby, unsure of his fate. He didn’t want either fiend to have him, but either way he knew he was dead. Or worse.

“You killed Anya,” said Viktoriya pointing an accusatory claw at Barry.

Barry laughed, baring his fangs. “C’mon, Baby, I was a stupid human. I’m one of you now. Right?”

“You are nothing,” replied Viktoriya, “and very soon you’ll be less than nothing.”

Barry’s arrogance began to wane. It was replaced with panic. “No, really, I’m with you. You are my Master. I obey the Master.”

“If you obey your Master, then you will submit to my justice.”

Barry began to back away from Viktoriya. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please, don’t kill me.”

She began to step forward towards him. “You cannot kill what isn’t alive.”

Barry backed into two vampires, who grabbed each of his arms, holding him fast in their grip. “Don’t hurt me. Please.” He looked pathetic, a repentant demon groveling before his unholy master. Paul knew he was dead, and he knew Barry was dead. He looked away from what was about to happen.

Viktoriya stepped in close, tracing Barry’s jawline with her long claw. “I made you. I can end you. Anya was one of my best.”

She flipped her hand around, slicing Barry across the neck in one deft move, severing his head from his body. It dropped to the ground with the rest of his body, blood spurting from his neck. The other vampires crept in and began to lap it up, like alley cats lapping up milk placed out for them by a benefactor.

Paul felt claws close around his right wrist, and he was lifted to a standing position. Viktoriya placed her face in front of his, her sickly sweet breath brushing his face. “Are you friends with him?”

* * *

Lucy and Angela dashed through the dining room, dragging Jenna behind them.

“Hold on a second,” said Angela. She grabbed Jenna’s shoulders, steadying her as she struggled in Lucy’s grip. She slapped Jenna so hard that she left a red hand print on Jenna’s right cheek. Jenna stopped fighting and fell silent.

“Jesus, Angela,” said Lucy.

Angela snatched a knife off one of the tables. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“If that knife is for the vampires, I think you’re wasting your time.”

“Better than nothing,” replied Angela. “You have a better idea?”

Lucy looked at Jenna. “Are you okay?”

Jenna nodded. She wore an expression like a child who was recently slapped by a parent for throwing a tantrum.

“This place has to have a back exit.”

They ran into the kitchen.

Lucy flipped on the lights. “There,” she said, pointing to a door in the back.

They ran across the kitchen, dodging counters, and Lucy flung the back door open.

Immediately, several hunched over figures with savage expressions and ravenous eyes rushed the door. The three girls screamed, and Lucy slammed the door shut.

“We’re trapped!” said Angela. “We’re fucked. We’re totally fucked.”

“Calm down!” said Lucy. “We’ve got to think.”

She watched as Jenna was straightening out a cutting board so its edges were parallel to the edge of the counter. The poor girl was losing it. Then Lucy’s eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers.

“I have an idea…”

* * *

“Friends? No. I just met him today. He’s on the same tour as I am. I was supposed to keep him out of trouble.”

“You haven’t done a very good job, have you, Paul?”

Paul swallowed hard. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”

“Your tour mate slayed one of my children. I was going to make you one of us, but when I returned to your room, I found that you had run away. Why would you run away from me?”

“I-I was scared.”

“Do my children frighten you?”

“N-n…yes.”

“Children, back to the house! Justice is done. We don’t want to attract any more attention.”

The other vampires glided away from Viktoriya and Paul, never turning their backs on them, and drifted out of the front door, vanishing into the thick fog.

“There, is that better?”

Paul didn’t know how to answer.

“Paul, do I frighten you?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“I-I admire your strength, your power.”

“Do you wish to become one of my children?”

“I-I want to go home.” He sounded like a lost child. To Viktoriya he was exactly that.

“Your home is now with me, to serve me, to pleasure me.”

The mere mention of that final duty elicited an erection even though he was terrified.

“You no longer have to bow to your father. You no longer have to feel guilt over your pursuit of pleasure. You’ll just take it as you see fit. You’ll be able to seduce women by sheer will and feed on their life’s blood. You’ll never grow old, and your existence will never grow dull.”

This all sounded good in theory, and he thought that was what he wanted, but not the way this creature was offering it. His father always told him that the relentless pursuit of pleasure came at a price, and Paul knew that the price of this monster’s offer was unfathomable.

Who didn’t want to remain young forever and live life on the edge, never worrying about responsibility or obligation? However, now that it was being offered to him (or imposed upon him), he wasn’t so sure he wanted it. Paul began to cry as he wished he had listened to his father, and he regretted the fact that he wasn’t going to ever see his father again.

Viktoriya slashed at her own wrist, just enough for some blood to ooze out. “Drink, Paul. Let me free you as you have always wanted to be freed.”

Paul whimpered, choking back sobs as he accepted her wrist and placed his mouth over the wound. As he sucked the salty blood from her wrist like a child sucking at his mother’s tit, he felt his humanity slowly slip away and replaced with something dark, something wild…

…something evil.

* * *

“This is a kitchen,” said Lucy.

“You think they have garlic?” Jenna asked.

“I wasn’t thinking of that, but that’s a good idea, too.”

“Well, what did you have in mind?” asked Angela.

“According to legend, vampires are OCD, right?”

“Yes,” said Jenna. “In the old days people used to throw straw on a fresh grave, so if the departed rose as a vampire, she’d be up all night counting the straw.”

“What if that’s just bullshit?” asked Angela.

“I used to think vampires were bullshit,” said Lucy.

“Good point,” said Angela.

“Okay, split up. Let’s find anything we can spread all over the ground. Something for them to count,” said Lucy.

The three girls split up, searching the kitchen.

Lucy found an old wooden door.

“Maybe we can use pasta,” shouted Jenna from across the room.

“Too big,” said Lucy. She opened the door and saw shelves along the walls stocked with various food items. “Besides, they probably make their pasta fresh. I found a pantry.” She looked down and saw large sacks sitting in the dark. She reached out and pulled on the chain hanging from an exposed light bulb, and the pantry lit up. She smiled. “Thank God we took a tour of Northern Italy.”

“Why’s that?” asked Angela.

“They have rice.”

Angela and Jenna walked over to the pantry.

“Help me get these sacks out,” said Lucy. “We’ll sprinkle the rice all around the edges of the room. What time is it?”

“I don’t know. My phone’s up in my room,” said Angela. Jenna shrugged.

“It’s got to be around 3 am,” said Lucy. “We just need to buy ourselves a couple of hours or so.”

“What if they’re not OCD and they walk right over it?” asked Jenna.

“Then I guess we’re dead,” said Angela. Lucy shot her a dirty look. “Sorry.”

They scattered as much rice as they could find around the room. As they just finished emptying their fourth sack, the door creaked open and they saw a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness of the dining room.

Viktoriya drifted into the room looking like a pale wraith, death incarnate. Lucy, Jenna, and Angela huddled in the center of the room. Viktoriya immediately looked down at the ground and hissed. She stooped down, hunched over the spilled rice, and began to count the grains.

“Holy shit,” said Angela. “Holy shit. It’s working. It’s actually working.”

“This is a mere distraction,” said Viktoriya. “We are fast counters.”

“Well, you better count fast. Sunrise is in a couple of hours,” said Angela.

“Despite your efforts, one of you is going back with me,” said Viktoriya with a conviction that was unnerving.

The three girls heard whispers from the dark corners of the room and huddled even closer together. It felt as if countless eyes were watching them from the shadows, probing with their gazes. Lucy and Jenna held hands.

“None of us are going anywhere,” said Lucy.

“Happy counting, bitch,” said Angela. “Twenty-four, thirty-seven, fourty-nine…”

Viktoriya smiled, flashing her ample fangs. “My mind is not weak like yours, my child. You cannot distract me, just as I cannot distract you from the reality that one of you will choose to join me.”

“Keep dreaming, whore,” said Angela.

“It’s true,” said Viktoriya, still counting. “For one of you, it will seem like you have no other choice.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Jenna. “Ignore her.”

“Child, you couldn’t ignore me if you tried. Your heart pounds at the mere sound of my voice. And, you, Angela…”

Angela went white. “She knows my name. How the fuck does she know my name?”

“…you know much about monsters….”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Lucy. “She’ll try to manipulate you.”

“…your whole childhood was fraught with them. It’s not easy being adopted, is it?”

“Fuck you,” snapped Angela. “You know nothing about me.”

“…you’ve been victimized by those who vowed to care for you, the ultimate betrayal of trust. They took you in, and then the husbands put their hands all over you when their wives weren’t around. Only you couldn’t say anything, because who would believe an orphan, and a troubled one at that?”

“So, what, you’re going to adopt me? Take me in and take care of me? Given all of my experiences, what makes you think I’d trust you? You’re just another monster with empty promises.”

Viktoriya chuckled. “Who said I was offering you admission into my family? Maybe I’ll just string your innards from the rafters and make a meal of your flesh.”

“I told you to ignore her,” said Lucy.

“Ah, Lucy, you always possess such poise under pressure. A natural leader…”

Jenna took Lucy’s hand in hers. “Ignore her.”

“…always so smart and so independent. So independent that men won’t even look twice at you for more than a screw. So inaccessible, an outsider in matters of the heart, so lonely.”

Lucy looked away from Viktoriya, but she felt the vampire’s fingers crawling on her skin, under her clothes…from across the room. She looked into Jenna’s eyes. “She can’t get to me. I’m proud of who I am.”

“…ah, yes, the lonely are so proud, their pride a wall around their hearts. Your friends, Lucy, are leaving you behind. They’ve found love and they are cultivating a life around it, a life that does not include you.”

Lucy gazed at Viktoriya. “And, what? You’re offering your love to me. You’re not my type, Honey.”

Viktoriya licked her lips. “Oh, I’m everybody’s type, and everybody is my type. Especially you, with your AB negative blood. You, my dear, are a rare delicacy.”

Jenna pulled on Lucy’s arm. “Lucy, don’t.”

“And what about you, Jenna, always living in such fear. I, as you can see, understand your compulsion to count and how it rules your life, how it prevents you from taking what you want, just as these grains of rice are preventing me from feasting on you three, slaughtering you like the wild boar roaming this beautiful countryside…”

Jenna whimpered. Lucy held her close and Angela stepped in front of them, blocking Jenna’s view of the monster. “You leave her alone.”

“…but, Jenna, I can teach you to embrace fear, use it to get what you want, whenever you want it. Fear doesn’t have to be your enemy. You dress up as bold heroes, pretending to be one who possesses courage and strength. I can make you one of those super heroes. You need only take my hand and come with me.”

“You know,” said Angela, “it occurs to me that maybe you’re the one who’s lonely. That’s why you kidnap all of the men in this town. You offer them love, but they only fear you. You try to take solace in the loneliness of their wives and children left behind, but the feeling leaves you empty. So, you try to create your own family of abominations because misery loves company.”

Viktoriya smiled as she kept counting. “My dear, you are so very wrong about me. Too much pop culture vampire books. The pain and loneliness of others sustains me; their suffering is my sweet nectar. You are nothing but food to me. The fact that I elevate some of you into my ranks as goons is only to aid in my protection from primitive farm folk and their pitchforks. I am not lonely. I am singular in my evolution. I am a master vampire.”

“Then why the taunting? Why don’t you just kill us?” asked Angela.

“I taunt you because it’s fun, like a cat toying with a mouse before it makes a meal of it, and because I’ve not finished counting.”

Lucy released Jenna and stepped next to Angela. “That’s funny.”

“Child, I assure you that there is nothing funny about your predicament.”

Lucy ignored the threat. “You said you were a master vampire, not the master vampire. That means that you were made, which means you were once ‘food’ like us. Your hypocrisy knows no bounds.”

“That was many moons ago,” said Viktoriya, “but my Maker made me more than a goon. She made me her protégé, and now I’m a master. That intrigues you?”

“No, I’m just pointing out what a hypocrite you are.”

“But, Lucy, on some level I believe it does intrigue you. You are an ambitious young woman, placing achievement above all else. Perhaps you would like to become my protégé, like Anya was. She was something special, much like you, until that ape slayed her in our own home.”

“I assure you that I have zero interest in becoming your protégé.”

“You would have status, power, and an army of lesser goons at your command. We could rule this countryside together. There is no greater status than the title of master. You could snatch husbands from their marriage beds, make them do your bidding. Men will no longer be a mystery to you, but you would be such a mystery to them. They will adore you, Lucy.”

“Keep counting,” said Lucy. “The sun will be rising soon.” But Lucy was astonished at how quickly Viktoriya was counting the grains of rice. Would they make it to dawn?

“Let’s face it,” said Viktoriya, “you three are not getting out of here intact. I’m taking one of you with me, whether I finish counting or not. This is a fact. You are each wondering who it’s going to be, and none of you think it’s going to be you. But, the fact of the matter is, that I already have my hooks in one of you.”

“She’s bluffing,” said Angela.

“I’m already in one of your minds. You feel it, don’t you?”

“She’s full of shit,” said Lucy, but she felt this monster’s dirty little fingers probing her memories, violating her most private thoughts. Angela felt it, too.

Jenna shook her head, as if she was trying to clear it. Lucy embraced her. “Don’t let her trick you, Jenna. We’ve got you.”

Jenna dropped to her knees, placing her hands on her temples in pain as if she was experiencing a migrane. Lucy dropped beside her and hugged her tighter as Jenna began to tremble. “You stop it right now! Leave her alone, you witch!”

“I’m so afraid,” whimpered Jenna. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want it to stop.”

“Not like this,” said Lucy. “You have to be strong. Dawn is coming.”

“Enough,” boomed Angela. All eyes were on her. “Enough. You can’t have her. You can take me, but under one condition…”

“Angela, no!” protested Lucy.

“I’m listening,” said Viktoriya.

“You take me on as your protégé, to replace the one Barry killed.”

“Angela, you don’t have to do this,” said Lucy.

“If I don’t, she’ll take Jenna. I know what it’s like to be an orphan, adopted by monsters. No one should have to experience that. I’m already all fucked up. It wouldn’t be such a fall from grace for me.”

“We can wait this out,” insisted Lucy, cradling Jenna in her arms.

“Jenna can’t,” said Angela. “She’s not strong enough.”

Lucy glared at Angela. “This has nothing to do with Jenna. You want the power. You fucking bitch, you want the goddamned power.”

Angela ignored Lucy’s attack and looked at Viktoriya. “If I leave here with you now, you’ll leave them alone?”

“For now. I would not recommend they stick around for the tour.”

“Angela, don’t!”

Angela stepped over to Viktoriya, who stood and offered her hand. Angela took it. She had time to look back at Lucy and Jenna one last time as she drifted out of the kitchen and into the darkness of the dining room with her new master.

Angela was gone.

* * *

Paul stood at the crest of a hill outside of town as the sun began to rise. He stood, facing the rising orb of fire as he wept. He wept, feeling profound shame in how he lived and what his life had become. He wept because he would never feel the warmth of his father’s pride. He had been a tremendous disappointment to most and a burden on all with his selfish pursuit of pleasure and meaningless existence.

He placed a hand up to shield his eyes from the burnt orange conflagration in the sky as his fingers began to turn to ash and dissolve into the morning breeze. The pain of his purification drowned out the psychological pain of his wasted life.

Paul flamed out of his existence on earth in a quick blaze, no trace of his existence left behind to testify that he was ever here.

* * *

Stefania ran into the kitchen of the hotel to find Lucy and Jenna still huddled on the floor, embracing each other. Jenna was crying. Both girls looked weary.

Stefania ran over to them. “What happened?”

“We were attacked last night by your Russian vampire strippers,” said Lucy.

“From Feral Hearts?”

“They got Barry and Paul. The master took Angela.”

Stefania looked around the floor at the spilled rice. “Clever girls. How did you know?”

“Took a wild stab in the dark,” said Lucy.

“That saved your life.”

“Not Angela’s,” said Jenna, sniffling.

“We need to go to the police.”

Stefania’s face went hard. “I’m so sorry. As a town we should’ve done something about them a long time ago. Maybe it’s not too late.”

* * *

Lucy and Jenna sat in the hotel lobby with every business owner and housewife in the town of Derosso. Stefania stood in front of them, glad they had all responded to her call for a town meeting. The policia were standing nervously by the doors.

“You really don’t need to stick around for this,” said Stefania. “This is no longer your problem.”

“We owe it to Angela,” said Jenna. Lucy nodded her conviction.

“Okay. Here we go.” Stefania turned to the group as the Mayor stormed into the lobby. “Thank you for coming to this emergency meeting,” she said in Italian.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Mayor Medici. “You have no authority to call a meeting.”

“I have every authority to call this meeting as a concerned citizen. Our town is under attack. A cancer has descended upon Derosso, and it’s preying on our people.”

There were some nods and rumbling from the crowd.

“The Russians are harmless. They run a legitimate business in our town, bringing in valuable revenue.”

“Harmless?” cried Stefania. “They’re breaking up families. They storm into our businesses like they own the town, scaring away customers. And now they’re murdering people!”

“Murder?” asked the Mayor. “There’s no evidence of that.”

“I have two witnesses here who saw them murder their friends.”

Mayor Medici laughed derisively. “Americans? These are your witnesses? They probably had too much to drink or took drugs and hallucinated.”

“They did not drink or take drugs at all on my walking tour last night.”

“Did you spend all night with them?” asked Medici. “Who knows what they did when you went home, Stefania?”

“Both women are willing to submit to toxicology tests, but we don’t have the time.”

The Mayor laughed. “Toxicology tests? You’ve been watching too many American crime shows.”

“We need to do something about these monsters. We all know that they are more than strippers and prostitutes,” said Stefania. There were reluctant nods and murmurs from the crowd.

“What do you propose we do?” asked Mr. Lovallo, owner of the café across from the police station.

“The policia aren’t willing to do anything about it. I say we storm their house on the outskirts of town—we all know where it is—and burn it down. To the ground.”

“What you are doing is inciting a mob,” said the Mayor. “Policia, arrest her.”

The officers began to make their way over to Stefania.

“They’re taking our husbands, fathers, and sons from us!” shouted Stefania. “They’re ruining our businesses, our towns! They are murderers!”

There were more murmurs as the din in the room began to pick up.

“Yes,” said Medici, “we’re all aware of how your fiancé left you and how you blame Feral Hearts.”

“They’re vampires!” cried Stefania.

At this declaration, people began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. The police officers grabbed Stefania by each of her arms.

“Silence!” shouted Father Poselli, pastor of their local church. “Stefania is right!”

“You can’t be serious,” said the Mayor.

“She’s right,” insisted Father Poselli. “You all know she’s telling the truth. The fact that none of us want to admit it does not change the fact that a terrible evil has taken over our town. Unhand her!”

The police officers looked to the Mayor, who was dumbfounded. “Vampires? Really, Father? Have you all gone mad?”

“No, you’ve gone mad, Giuseppe! This is still a good town. We are still a God-loving people.”

“But we cannot just storm the house and burn it down. There’ll be repercussions.”

“Not if we kill them all,” said Father Poselli.

“He’s talking about the local boss,” said Stefania. “They’re receiving tribute from these Russian whores, but we must ask ourselves whose town is this…ours? The vampires’? Or the local boss’s?”

“If we destroy the Russian’s bordello, Mr. Giovanni will take revenge.”

“Not if we all stand up,” insisted Stefania.

“You’re a foolish child,” said the Mayor. “You know nothing of how the world works.”

“She’s right,” said Father Poselli. “If we all stand together, he cannot murder us all.”

“Father,” said Mayor Medici, “Mr. Giovanni is a major contributor to the church.”

“I’ll not have our church funded with blood money from Russian prostitutes, and vampires no less. Their very existence is a crime against God.”

“I’ve lost my husband to these Russians, and my son sits in the insane asylum, wasting away,” said Filia Magnotta.

“Boss Giovanni will tax us even more,” said Concetta Giorgio, owner of the general store. “Tributes will rise.”

“We’re taxed to the maximum already,” said Stefania. “He cannot take what we don’t have.”

“You’re a dead woman,” said Mayor Medici. “Stupid girl.”

“I’m not waiting around to lose any more loved ones to these demon whores,” said Stefania. “After this, they’ll surely come after me, so I’m dead either way. At least my death will count for something. What do you stand for, Mayor Medici? The town, the mafia, or the vampire whores?”

“My husband sleeps all day after spending all night in Feral Hearts and that house outside of town. I’m left to run the store by myself,” said Concetta.

“So, who’s with us?” asked Father Poselli.

The din rose as women and business owners mustered up the courage after losing their loved ones and businesses to the vampire blight. They were frustrated, as they lived in fear of these monsters, these outsiders, as the government and local boss looked on, lining their coffers with the blood of their people.

Mayor Medici pointed a finger at Stefania. “Mr. Giovanni’s going to hear about this.”

“I’m counting on it,” said Stefania. She nodded to Father Poselli, who addressed the mob.

“We must strike during daylight, when they hide. Go home, arm yourselves, and meet out in front of the police station in ten minutes!”

The police officers were still standing by Stefania. “You can lock her up, but you can’t lock all of us up in your jail,” said Father Poselli. “Help us or get out of the way.”

The two officers backed away from Stefania and escorted the Mayor out of the lobby.

“What’s going on?” asked Lucy.

“The town’s agreed to storm the bordello outside of town. I want you to wait here at the hotel.”

“They’ll probably be safer with us,” said Father Poselli. “The Mayor won’t take too kindly to two trouble-making Americans who were the reason for all of this.”

“You’re right,” admitted Stefania. “Lucy, Jenna, you’ll be safer with us.”

* * *

The angry mob, led by Stefania and Father Poselli, stormed Feral Hearts and began trashing the club as the policia stood by and watched. Mayor Medici was nowhere to be found. They tossed the furniture and smashed the mirrors on the walls. They threw the deejay’s equipment on the ground and stomped on it.

There were a couple of undead goons in the club, but Father Pocelli kept them at bay with holy water while the angry citizens of Derosso dispensed quick justice with the sharpened ends of mop and broom handles and broken chair legs, staking the two vampires in their black hearts.

Lucy and Jenna were right alongside the mob, more observing than participating. They were looking for Angela and were thankful when the two vampires dispatched to hell were not her.

After making quick work of the club, the mob took to the street and marched to the outer rim of Derosso where they all knew the Russian bordello stood. As they approached the house of ill repute, they saw a group of men with guns and farming tools standing out front.

“It’s Mr. Giovanni,” gasped Stefania.

“Let me handle this,” said Father Poselli.

“I’m going with you,” insisted Stefania.

Father Poselli nodded reluctantly. “But I do all of the talking.”

“Agreed.”

Lucy and Jenna stayed amongst the group, who waited back while their two leaders met with Mr. Giovanni. No one was in a rush to go to war against the local mafia.

“Mr. Giovanni, I can explain everything,” opened Father Poselli, extending his hand. Mr. Giovanni shifted his pistol to his left hand and shook the Father’s hand with his right.

“Who’s this?” asked Mr. Giovanni. “The young girl who started this?”

Stefania swallowed hard. She looked as if she was going to say something, but Father Poselli held up a hand. Stefania held her tongue for the moment.

“She’s the brave girl who brought this all to our attention.”

“What exactly did she bring to your attention, Father?”

“That there were vampires destroying our town, Mr. Giovanni.”

“I see.”

“Mr. Giovanni, we meant no disrespect. We know you’re the local boss. We told Mayor Medici what we intended to do, knowing that he’d inform you.”

“That he did.”

“There were some tourists who were murdered. Things had gotten out of hand. Our women miss their husbands, fathers, and sons.”

“Nevertheless,” said Mr. Giovanni, “I am the local boss, and it is disrespectful to circumvent me in these matters.”

“We know you’d do nothing about it,” interjected Stefania. “We know you get a piece of the bordello.”

“Father, you should explain to this girl who it is she’s speaking to.”

“She’s frustrated, Mr. Giovanni, as are the rest of the residents. When things escalated to murder, the townsfolk had had enough.”

“The Feral Hearts club brings revenue into Derosso,” said Mr. Giovanni, “revenue that supports your church, Father.”

Father Poselli puffed his chest out in resolve. “We need to draw the line. We are Catholics, and we cannot stand by and watch these devils corrupt our town and its people.”

“Maybe you can’t control these Russian outsiders anymore,” said Stefania. “For all we know, maybe they’re controlling you at this point.” Father Poselli shot her a look for her boldness.

Mr. Giovanni was silent for a moment. “To tell you the truth, we’re not out here to stop you.”

“You’re not?” said Stefania incredulously.

“No, we’re here to help. These Russian whores have gotten out of hand. We no longer want them here any more than you do.” He looked down at his feet for a moment. “My son disappeared a week ago. He was last seen going into Feral Hearts. My wife and I fear he’s dead…or worse.”

Father Poselli gave Mr. Giovanni a sad smile. The man was a criminal and a sinner, but even sinners had loved ones. Father Poselli believed that all men were God’s children. “Glad to have your help. Why don’t you say we go kill some vampires?”

“Let’s do it,” said Mr. Giovanni.

Father Poselli blessed the house and then stepped aside while villagers torched it, burning it to the ground. There were a few vampires who, all ablaze, ran out screaming and disintegrated in the sunlight.

Jenna tugged Lucy’s sleeve and pointed at the burning wreckage of the villa. They saw Angela standing in the flames, gazing out at them, and then she too was consumed by fire. Jenna looked away, burying her face into Lucy’s shoulder, her body racked with sobs. Lucy looked on stoically, but inside she was horrified and disgusted. She believed that she should’ve been able to help Angela, and she’d take that guilt all the way to her grave.

Around seven o’clock, with the sun waning in the sky, the building burned to the ground and the flames began to die out. The villagers, making the most of the remaining sunlight, stormed the cellar and dispatched several more vampires, including Jamie, but Viktoriya, the master vampire, was nowhere to be found.

That evening, many of the inpatients at the asylum in town were sent back home to their families, miraculously cured of whatever ailment they had been suffering from. Stefania thought it was proof that Viktoriya perished in the fire.

Lucy and Jenna had their doubts.

* * *

One year later, Stefania was giving a tour in Prague. She was standing in front of the famous Dancing House, a modern architectural marvel, talking about the famous restaurant on the top floor. After she fielded several questions about the attraction, she took them to look at a church on the way to a microbrewery.

When at the microbrewery, she let the owner take over the tour, and she waited outside. It was a beautiful summer day, and she wanted to take in the fresh air. Stefania loved Prague. It was more urban than Derosso, and it was an interesting juxtaposition of the old and the new.

She often found her mind wandering back to her hometown and everything that had transpired. The town had returned to normal. Many of the men missing or held in the asylum had been reunited with their families. Feral Hearts was closed permanently, and there were no more strippers or prostitutes within town limits after that.

Still, Stefania felt she needed a change. One of her friends had moved to Prague and helped set her up with a new tour company. There was no mafia shaking down businesses in Prague, or at least none that were obvious. It was a hip, modern place with plenty of young folk like her.

She had met a Belgian young man, and they had been dating for a few months. He was a kind, gentle man who cared for her deeply. It was a fresh start. She was able to tuck her memories of Louie (her ex-fiancé) away, remaining only as a faint scar on the story of her life.

Stefania was on her way to becoming happy.

The streets of New Town were crowded, but it was a good energy. She felt comfortable amongst the crowd. Safe.

She was about to turn to enter the microbrewery to check on her group when she felt it.

She turned back to the street and gazed into the sea of people. There, standing still as people passed it by, was a lone figure with a white face and black eyes staring right back at her. The sight turned her blood into ice water, but she blinked and it was gone.

Stefania wasn’t sure if she really saw what she thought she saw, but she shook her head and went back inside the microbrewery, chasing thoughts of unfathomable horror to the recesses of her awareness. Things were different here. Things were good.

There’s an old Buddhist saying: “When you disturb something, you become entangled with it.”

Stefania decided, at that very moment, that she would not get embroiled in another showdown with the undead. She hoped that her eyes were only playing tricks on her and stifled the notion that she had indeed disturbed something back in Derosso. She’d mind her business and live her life tangle-free.

As if she had a choice…

Chapter 12

Alternate Ending #2

A Little More Than They Bargained For

Amanda M. Lyons

Jamie breathed deep, choking on the words, sick with guilt. “What now? What could there possibly be left? You’ve already taken everything, even my goddamn self-respect!” He knew it was a foolish risk to speak to her this way; Viktoriya was nothing if she wasn’t proud and cruel, but he was tired and he didn’t know if he had any more give left in him.

Her face went taut, the pale smooth edges of it going sharp as her eyes burned into him. There was that glimmer, that spark of humor she has always been able to muster when she knew she had him by the balls. The smile started in her eyes, slipped down to her mouth, and then spread out over her face, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“What is left?” she laughed. “I think you underestimate what I’ve left you. I think you fail to see that my cruelty could go so much further than this. You mourn your Mary and your Nico, the sad little life you had before I came. You beg me to give you freedom as if you know how far this could go! It is not so hard, this thing I ask of you, not after everything you have already done.” That smile went wide again, adding emphasis to her words and plunging daggers into his heart.

He looked up at her, flinching at that gaze despite all of the times he’d looked at it.

“What do you want me to do?”

* * *

Jenna’s mind raced a million miles a second, her eyes darting back and forth over the scene below. There were twelve lady vampires with almost no clothes. There were twenty-four scary-looking men covered in blood the color of the Blood Crave lipstick she was wearing.

It didn’t matter that Jamie was down there on the street below. He was clearly not a bad person, so there must have been some mistake—maybe the number of the other groups was making him scared, maybe Jamie was as anxious about numbers as she was, maybe there was a good explanation…maybe he didn’t know they were bad people because there were a lot of times she’d messed up and misread people too. That could be it…

“Jenna, Honey? Are you ok?” Lucy could see the stress eating up Jenna’s mind, her eyes shifting back and forth, her hand trembling as she kept her eyes locked on the man and the monsters in the street below.

They were going to have to get the hell out of here, find some sort of safety, but she’d be damned if she was going to leave Jenna standing here like this, lost in the grip of her OCD.

“Jenna? I’m going to slip something into your hand, and I want you to tell me how many of them there are.” No response, Jenna’s eyes were locked, her mouth agape and starting to mutter bits and pieces of the facts rolling through her brain.

Lucy reached into her pocket and slipped exactly five mini breath mints into Jenna’s hand, closing the fingers around them as she tried to regain control of this small part of their situation. Jenna finally looked down into her hand. She counted them and said, “Five.”

For a moment, the fear in her face drifted away and Lucy almost thought that she’d be able to direct her now, but then Jenna’s eyes went wide and she started to speak in her too loud announcement voice. “There are twelve very scary vampires in the street with twenty-four very bad men standing there with them, and Jamie is in danger because he is only one!”

“Fuck this shit! I’m getting the fuck out of here before those bitches get up here and finish the job.” Barry was charging across the floor, fear propelling him into motion, before Lucy had a chance to process everything that’d happened in the last several minutes. Caught between Jenna and the panicking jerk she’d been annoyed with all day, she took a deep breath and tried to take the situation in hand.

“And where will you go? I’m not a real big fan of horror movies, but I know vampires are supposed to be pretty hard to hide from, and it’s more than a little likely we’re going to be facing those lunatics they brought with them, too. With that wound on your neck and the fear coming off you in waves, they’ll be on you faster than you can blink. A big guy like you, Mr. Needle, oughtta be able to take a breath and get your shit together.” There, that ought to do it.

“Get my shit together? Are you out of your damned mind? Those pissed vampire whores are out for me and Paul. We’ve got every reason to run. Way I figure it, you’re probably gonna be fine if you stay right here.” That was bullshit, and he knew it.

“Well, I happen to think that the only way any of us are getting out of here is by working together, coming up with something that has less to do with running with our tails between our legs and more to do with stealth.”

Her eyes drifted over to Paul in the hope that he’d help her convince Barry she was right. His eyes met hers with just as much fear as in Barry’s, only it seemed to be something much more useful. She saw the gears working in that brain of his.

She was about to ask him what he was thinking when a loud, throbbing barrage of fisted hands struck the door. For a moment, all of them were struck dumb and glued to the floor beneath them. Jenna whimpered, starting to slip into a panic attack that sent her breathing into an irregular rhythm.

Someone spoke from behind the door out in the hallway. “Could you assholes shut the fuck up? Just ‘cause you’ve got a gut full of piss doesn’t mean the rest of us need to hear about it!”

“It’s just Angela.” With a breath, Paul walked the few steps to the door and reached out his hand to open it, only to have Barry barrel his way across the room and hold it shut with one splayed palm.

“Fuck that. What proof have we got it’s really her and not one of those vamps? Haven’t any of you assholes seen a horror movie?”

“Fine then, let’s figure it out because it won’t be long before the real vamps get their asses up here.” For a man who was used to partying and throwing caution to the wind, Paul suddenly became very rational. Lucy could see history there, some edge of his past coloring his outlook.

A look passed between the two men and Barry swung the door open, slipping a look around the edge of it. “Hey, welcome to the party. It’s starting to get awful interesting.” He reached out and pulled Angela into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Her eyes went wide for a second as she was jerked across the threshold, but she recovered fast, smoothing her clothes and thrusting her open palms into Barry’s chest hard enough to shove him back a few feet.

“Nobody fucking touches me!”

At first, Barry’s ego looked like it wanted to dance its way all over her, but he took in a big breath instead.

“Listen I don’t want people screwing with me either, but if you hadn’t noticed, it’s a little late for that.” He pushed his injured neck into the light, revealing blood and a wound that made it all too clear that things are nothing like they should’ve been. Paul pointed to his bite as well.

“What the fuck?” Again she was clearly thrown for a moment, but it didn’t take her long to throw up her armor, arms crossed and her face turned down in a scowl. “Oh, I get it, you pissed off the root rats, and when they tried to get a piece of you, things got dicey.”

“Actually, we’re being hunted by vampires, and they’re outside the hotel right now,” said Barry.

“What? You’re out of your mind?” Angela looked around the room for confirmation that Barry was drunk, high, or just plain crazy.

“Apparently, Barry killed one of them, and now they’re out for blood,” said Lucy.

Angela still thought this was a stupid joke, but she saw the grave expression on Lucy’s face. “This is a joke, right?”

“I’m afraid not,” answered Lucy.

Angela didn’t quite know how to process the new information. “If these two douche bags got themselves into trouble with the locals, how is that any of that our problem?”

“God, you’ve got balls!” said Barry. “Tell you what—we can toss you right out that window, and then we’ll see exactly how focused they are on me and Paul.” Barry got close to her face with his and met her eyes with a glare of cold bravado. “And, for your information, I killed the bitch that did this shit to me.”

Angela didn’t give him an inch, glaring straight back into his eyes. “I couldn’t give a shit less what the show pony thinks of me, and I’m sure as shit not going to let you play stand over man with me!”

Lucy heard Jenna whimpering behind her, and she turned to check her condition. Her anxiety had escalated, and the hand that was jittering before was now quaking furiously as she gazed out the window again. “There are twenty-four scary, bloody men and twelve mostly naked vampires coming!”

“Let me see,” said Angela, shoving her way to the window, still not believing any of it. When she looked down to the street, her eyes went wide and she fell silent.

Barry snickered. “What, cat suddenly got your tongue?”

The courtyard resonated with screams.

* * *

Jamie breathed deep, choking on blood and snot, and spit it out on the street. “Fucking bitch.” The world spun in his vision for a moment, and he stumbled, falling back against the wall. He tried to breathe deeply again.

In the distance he heard the madmen and the vampires roaring and marauding in the street, building up steam to attack his fellow tourists. Guilt panged his gut again, and he knew the sound of Viktoriya’s voice only too well. It took on the same sort of bullying rant his mother’s voice once had, though the crimes and the demands were far worse.

Closer by, he heard a clicking sound. He wasn’t surprised to see an old woman with desperate pleading eyes staring at him from a partially closed door. The look didn’t last long, but he recognized the same sort of shame in her as she shut her door and bolted it closed with an almost apologetic finality.

She doesn’t want me, lady. She wants them, and I don’t hold it against you that you value your life more than mine. I tried to escape, tried to shut all of this out too, but she kept on coming and she kept on taking whatever she wanted. He laughed to himself, a cold mirthless sound in the dark alley.

Now, I’ve got to figure out what I’m doing. She set me free, took the yoke off, but this isn’t over. I still have a lot to do to try and fix this, and I’d better get started.

* * *

Jenna was pleading her case for Jamie as they fled. “I don’t think Jamie’s a bad guy. I don’t think we should be abandoning him like this.”

Barry was seriously getting sick of Jenna’s shit. He was at the front of the little group as they tried to slip down an alley not far from the hotel. With this racket, it was a goddamn miracle they’d gotten this far.

If he had it his way, he’d already be off on his own. If Paul wanted to tag along, fine. Hell, even Angela could come if she could quit being a bitch for five minutes, but Jenna’s crazy talk was getting old, real fuckin’ old.

“If you could keep the quackin’ down to a dull roar, it’d be great, and if you don’t want your ass knocked into next week, I advise you stop nattering on about that little weirdo. Gave me the creeps the first time I saw him, and I sure as shit ain’t gonna bust my ass trying to save him when it’s clear he just gave us over to those cunts.”

There wasn’t any protest from the rest of the group.

Jenna panted as she struggled to keep up. “But—”

“But nothing. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He wasn’t too surprised to find Lucy catching up to him a few seconds later, giving him an earful. “The least you could do is be civil. She’s got OCD, social anxiety, and clearly there are several other underlying issues. She can’t help herself!”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard this all before.

“Whatever. Her feelings aren’t as big a concern for me right now as my own ass. Be glad I don’t leave the rest of you to fend for yourselves.” They were walking at a brisk jog. The tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders was really starting to make his wounds ache. “Do you think you could keep your eyes peeled for some weapons lying around? There’s gotta be some farm implements or something basic like that, if nothing else. You’re a smart chick. I’m sure you can see the immediacy of that need over this be nice crap.”

He heard Lucy grunt with frustration, but it didn’t slow him down any. He had priorities, even if she didn’t. I’m gonna kick that asshole’s tail when I get home, get a new PR guy, a new manager, and plan my own fuckin’ trips from now on.

It’s not like it’s my fault, anyway. I sure as hell didn’t plan to get turned into some stupid whore’s evening meal.

He didn’t really like looking back on that scene—all sex, blood, and industrial nightmare. It was the sort of thing you got in torture porn horror movies. Nonetheless, it was exactly where his brain wanted to go just about every time he tried not to think about it.

He supposed that was to be expected, considering his life wasn’t exactly full of tough situations and hard details. It brought perspective and did a very nice job of scaring the piss out of him when his adrenaline was already spiked.

Fuck her. Fuck her and all of those stupid cunts. I didn’t hurt a one of them until she went for my throat. Bitch was going to fucking kill me, and it’s supposed to be my fault we’re all in this mess?

Paul slips closer to Barry and reaches out a hand to lay it on his shoulder, causing Barry to flinch. He really didn’t want to be touched.

“You all right, man? You’re coming on green and—”

“Yeah, jus’ back off, okay? “ Lumbering on, Barry sucked in deep ragged breaths, the sting and the burn of his wounds adding to it all, a vivid series of images in his head from the vampire house on the edge of town playing over and over….

It had become dark while they were inside. When they got to the house, the “ladies” were playing all kinds of loud industrial music, the kind of stuff that’s all intense beats and loud German lyrics.

It didn’t take long for Viktoriya to pull Paul along to another room. The blonde Barry had come with was pushing him back into the comfortable pillows of a nice, comfy couch. She wasn’t being gentle, not that Barry minded, but he did have his limits. “Not too rough. I’m not in the mood for that.”

She donned her lascivious smile, and she lifted herself up with her arms and spread her legs wide around his waist, pressing her heat into him. The thin blue satin robe she’d worn from the club was off her shoulders in a moment, and soon those big, beautiful breasts were within easy playing range.

Barry didn’t waste a moment fondling and sucking them in turns, enjoying the sound of her genuine arousal. He always knew when they were faking, and it annoyed him when they were. However, this was nice and just what the doctor ordered after all the crap he’d been through today. As a result, he got generous.

He pulled a few tricks from his bag, slipped his hands from her erect nipples and down with soft movements over her ribs, gliding up her back and up her shoulders, making her writhe. Her eyes stayed closed as he kept nimbly gliding over those little erogenous zones, slipped his hands from her back, over her hips, and into the little hollows where her hips connected to her pelvis. He moved down to her ass, gripping it in both massaging hands for a moment before he glided his fingers down even further, moving things along very nicely with soft, even strokes.

When he’d got her really going, the wet warmth slipping through and drenching the cloth of the tiny thong she still had on, he got real close. He nibbled and bit his way up her neckline straight to her ear.

“What do you want me to do?”He whispered it in her ear, his voice a slow purr of sex, and she shivered with pleasure at the sound. The tickle of his warm breath on her neck as he pressed his body to hers was a welcome surprise, making her gasp a little more. My work here is done, he thought with a smile, and with any luck maybe she’ll give me a freebie.

“Fuck me,” she gasped, her eyes still shut and her body tight with need. Bingo. He chuckled, pulling the string on her thong until it snapped, and he lifted her just right to slip himself inside. Barry moved fast and hard, taking it rough now that he had her really going.

She bounced on his hips, the pair of them moving together. He watched her move on top of him, her breasts slapping against his chest as she built up to her first orgasm. Her body quivered and grew tight, then loose as she groaned in an arch that left him holding onto her hips so she wouldn’t fall off.

That had been the good part, the kind of shit you saved in the old memory banks for later perusal when you got bored. Hell, he was only getting started, really. However, orgasm was an imperative that would not be put off any longer.

The rush was coming. Barry felt it building, her body rocking some more on top of his. Lost in the moment, he closed his eyes. She dove forward and slammed flat onto his body as she moved on top of him, her teeth piercing his neck. At first it was great, the endorphins making it wild and intense, enough so that he blew once, twice, and then a third time.

Then it hit him—her teeth were still in his neck and not just nibbling…she chewed and slurped as she moaned with pleasure. The suction of her mouth gave him that strange tug that he always felt when he had to have blood drawn, only this was worse, a lot damn worse cause he felt it in his cock too. She was like some big damned leech sucking him dry at both ends!

Overcome from the sensation, he didn’t have a lot of pull at first, but when he could get his arms up between them, he used all of his adrenaline to throw her crazy ass across the room.

She was not pleased when she recovered and pushed herself up off of the floor, crouching like an animal ready to strike. But that was okay because he wasn’t too happy either.

Barry pushed himself to his feet and threw a solid kick right to her throat as she began to leap at him. He followed it up with a right hook to her face, sending her crashing into the wall.

He looked for something else to use on her. That was when he saw the ax, old and a little rusted, but it would do. He snatched it, dodging a swipe of her claws, hefted it high up on the handle, and got it up just in time to let her roaring, horrible body drive itself right into his swing.

He’d been aiming for her neck but it caught her in the chest, driving deep into her right breast and through. He cringed at her howls of rage drowning out the industrial music.

With one last burst of adrenaline, he placed a foot on the writhing vampire’s neck and pulled the ax out of her chest. He pressed down on his foot, steadying her beneath his weight, and brought the ax down, severing her head from her body.

That last action brought Victoria from her room, Paul not long behind. Barry had to hand it to him. Paul hadn’t spared a moment getting his ass over the rail on the stairs and straight out the door, making it easy for Barry to follow not long after.

“Come the fuck on, Barry,” he called out over his shoulder as he disappeared into the night.

Viktoriya’s howl of rage was louder than anything else in the vacant streets...

After that, it was a matter of getting back to their room and trying to talk it over.

Paul was out of breath, terrified and lividly angry at him. “The fuck was that, man? The fuck were you thinking?”

“She was crazy, all right? She fucking bit me!” He paced back and forth a minute, and then he jerked his head hard to the side showing Paul the wound. “How bad is it? Fuckin’ hurts, man!”

“Oh my God.” Paul’s eyes, gone wide as saucers, were enough to send him running for the bathroom and the mirror there.

“I got bit, too,” said Paul, standing behind him. “But mine’s not as bad.”

“Shit! Fuck!” Barry had never been good at hiding his emotions, and getting a good look at the wounds in the mirror had thrown him over the edge. That, in turn, had brought Jenna and Lucy over, and the whole damned mess snowballed into an even bigger pile of shit in the interim.

Mulling it over for what must have been the 18th time in the last hour alone, he didn’t notice the shadow that shot over the alleyway in front of him and coalesced into a bright flesh colored streak of movement just in front of where he stood.

He never saw it coming, just a white hot streak of strangeness across his throat and a warm spray of blood in front of him in vivid scarlet. Gasping and confused, he reached up to his throat and tried to stop the flow of it with his muscled hands. His eyes bulged, the air not quite making it to his lungs, and his vision went a stark and empty white.

He sank to his knees, unable to see the vampire as she strolled out in front of the group, her teeth a jagged and terrible gleam in her face, her supple body and high firm breasts painted in his blood. She mocked the keening sound he made as he gasped, growing weaker and weaker as they watched.

“You deserve it for what you did to Anya! Not very strong for such a flashy beast, but then few are. All bluster and no…” she reached down, gripped his groin, and ripped it away in one hand, raising the scrap of meat and cloth high in the moonlight, “…balls.”

The rest of them scattered before Barry had even breathed his last, the sound of their feet dashing away drowned out by the beat of his slowly dying heart thudding away in his own head.

The vampire didn’t follow. They would scatter, and the others would get them in time. In the meantime, she enjoyed what was left of her meal.

* * *

Paul and Angela shot down one alley, up another, and straight off into the darkened trees and arbors of a vineyard. It had far less to do with any real planning and a lot to do with blind panic.

It took a real will, but he was able to keep up with her flying legs, the pair of them covering more ground than he would have expected. That just topped the living shit out of any high I have ever had up until now. Well, besides…

Stop it! No more thinking about her! No more getting lost in the crazy shit back there! We’ve got shit to take care of here. Surely your own ass is more important than a piece of ass?

God this is a load of bollocks, just the worst fucking shit ever, and here I am with the girl that just happened to be the last one to walk in on the…

…where the fuck has she gone?

“Over here, asswipe,” she whispered. “Calm yourself down. I can hear you breathing from over here, and I don’t have a pair of bat’s ears like those vampires hunting us.”

“Well, where are you then? I can’t see shit out here.”

He thought her voice was coming from behind one of those trees over to the left, but he still didn’t trust a fucking thing, much less the mystery girl.

Paul’s questions were met with silence, a gap of soundlessness interrupted by the distant sound of screams and the ambient chatter of insects.

“Well, sod the fuck off then,” he muttered under his breath and turned to walk into another part of the vineyard.

Scared as he was, shivering at the sound of wind blowing through the vines and arbors, he started to feel like maybe making distance between him and Angela might be for the best anyway. If he was lucky, none of the vampires had seen him slip off on his own this way, and if he was luckier still, they were tracking Angela instead of him.

The others would probably be dead by the time anyone came back here to check things out, but Paul was a lot more worried about his own ass at the moment. After all, what real tie did he have to any of the rest? So, they met and they spoke a handful of words to each other before the day had passed. So what? He and Barry were the only ones that had any real call to look out for each other. It wasn’t like he’d gotten them in this mess. No, that was Barry and his-what? Bravado? Balls-out lack of sense?

Wow, I actually miss the dumb bastard. Maybe I just have a death wish…

For a long moment, Paul paused where he stood, remembering everything that had gone on in that room before Barry lost it. If Barry hadn’t fought back, maybe the pair of us rabble rousers could have finally gotten that one last big high and gone out with a bang.

He remembered the taste of Viktoriya in his mouth, copper and something intangible, something earthy and yet sweet and untraceable. In that place and in her bed, he really had been hers. He had given over every element of himself to her words and the sensations she gave him.

What I offer you is a gift, something you’ll think about forever. She was right, damn her. Buried in the nightmare of what she really was, he was still enthralled.

He still wanted her.

* * *

Jenna wept as Lucy pulled her along the old streets of Derosso. It was all too much, countless nightmares, scores of events she couldn’t control, and thousands of things she couldn’t keep track of no matter how hard she tried. She was starting to think that risks weren’t as good for her as Doctor Ed had told her they’d be, that her mother was wrong about her taking chances, and that maybe it would all go away if she could go home and talk to Cattabulous. She could then get it all out of her system and drain the poison that regular life had become ever since…

“Jenna? “

Suddenly, her face is in Lucy’s hands, lifted at just the right angle for the other woman to train her eyes on Jenna’s. Jenna watched them dart back and forth, not really able to focus on the things Lucy was trying so hard to say.

It was all too much. Jenna wanted to go home. She wanted to restore some sense of order in her life. She wanted to wake up in the Derosso Grande hotel to find that Jamie had left her a note about meeting him for a romantic walk where they’d…

“Hun, you’ve gotta stick with me here. All we have now is you and me. Now, I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and we’ve both seen some seriously fucked up shit.”

Lucy’s voice broke and tears filled her eyes. Jenna didn’t have to hear her talk about all they’d seen to be able to remember. Her mind was a catalogue of God awful images dripping with blood.

Lucy didn’t know where the others went. Instead, she thought about everything she and Jenna had come across since: one dead man torn in half and left for them to stumble over in the street, two lunatics fighting over the body of a dead woman with her eyes open wide, monsters attacking a family that tried to let them in on one dark and lonely street, dead bodies torn apart and bleeding where they lay on main street…and one Barry, drained of blood and unmanned as they watched. All of it was painted in vivid shades of Blood Crave red and darker things.

“Cattabulous is waiting for me,” Jenna whispered to no one in the dark alley.” He’s probably getting hungry. What if I didn’t leave him enough food? What if the girl I asked to watch over him died suddenly in a terrible accident, and Cattabulous is trapped in the bathroom like I worried he would be? What if he needs me, and I’m still here trying to wake up from this very bad dream? What if he dies because I was selfish and wanted something for myself? What if—”

Lucy wrapped her hand around Jenna’s mouth, pulling her into the dark corner beside a trash dumpster. Jenna could hear Lucy breathing in horrible gasps. She couldn’t breathe beneath Lucy’s palm, and she couldn’t see what was coming.

There were footsteps in the dark, yet another threat in a night full of danger. One step, two steps, three steps…a shuffle a scuff and a scrape. A fifth step, a moment’s pause, and then a sixth step followed by panting breaths.

Seven steps, and a thousand possibilities rush through Jenna’s thoughts. A shadow under the moonlight creeps along the wall in front of them followed by an eighth step, now nine, now ten, and then eleven.

Screams of horror and pain cry out in the night around them, multiple victims meeting their end by way of minion or vampire, fire and destruction eating up what few safe places remain in the tiny Italian village with the romantic atmosphere.

It was all Jenna could do to hold her breath, pleading with the night to end and for dawn to break. She and Lucy were defenseless, and the world around her was chaos.

…a twelfth step, now thirteen, now fourteen, and finally fifteen.

Whatever it was that was coming had finally begun to slip around the edge of the dumpster and was becoming clearer as it moved.

A sixteenth step…seventeenth …

She kicked Lucy in the shin with one heel over and over. She kicked and struggled in Lucy’s arms until Lucy started to let go. She finally released Jenna’s mouth. Jenna called out in the night.

“Jamie?”

* * *

Angela was getting very sick of catching the stick in life, very sick of it indeed.

It’s not like she hadn’t already lost enough people, not as if she went out of her way looking for trouble…well, most of the time. So why did it all keep coming back to this?

At least it was her own ass now. She’d ditched that asshole Paul a while ago. He gabbed too much and was way too free with risking things for her. If that made her as much a piece of shit as he or that louse Barry had been, so be it.

It wouldn’t have been the first time she put herself first, and doubtless not the last either. Angela Rollins was a survivor, and she could rely on that if nothing else.

Of course, none of the other tourists had taken any time to really check in on her or push through the “mysterious girl” front she was always putting up, not even to try and catch a shag, which put her off a bit. In the end, of course, it paid off not to have any real associations with the rest of the group, but she’d been hoping for a couple of wilds romps before she gave up on this group and tried the next.

Barry seemed like he might at least have known what he was doing, but she suspected he was way too much ego for her to tolerate. Jamie was nice enough, but she didn’t really like a guy who couldn’t give her a bit of a kick to the ass if it came down to it. Besides, Jenna (poor creature) seemed like she was sweet on him already. That left Paul, and before all of this shit with the vamps, she might have gone for it.

Well, screw that!

God, he was an ass, and none of the women had been her style either, not even the tour guide, as curvy and attractive as she was physically. That one was way too chipper and probably more than a little clueless. Nothing got on her last nerve like a woman who was all looks and no brains.

No, the little venture hadn’t been worth it, not even for a diversion, and certainly not with all of the goddamn vampires eating up the scenery tonight. She thought she’d seen the last of that lot when she bid Dallas adieu back home, but here they were again mucking it all up for everyone, eating and burning it all up as if they’d known she was coming.

It was as if taking out their compound hadn’t been enough. She’d taken out every last one of those undead fuckers for taking the one damned thing that had meant anything to her in her entire life…

So why not do it over again? Why not get this bit over with and maybe play the hero? I’m not a hero. I’m the girl nobody wants and the train wreck nobody expects.

So fucking change the pattern. Isn’t that what all this shit was supposed to be about in the first place?

As luck would have it, she looked up to see a large shed a few feet in the distance, and with a few quick strides through the tall grass, she was within range to see inside. Dark as it was away from the village, the moonlight still lit the edges of several tools there. Most of them weren’t going to be too terribly useful against vampires–wiring, boards, bits and pieces of barrels, and the like. But, there on one wall where the light hit hardest was something she thought would do quite nicely.

A spax.

* * *

Jenna had barely gotten out his name before Lucy dove across the few feet between them, grabbed him by his shirt, and slammed him into the wall behind Jenna.

She questioned him in a low voice through gritted teeth. “What in the fuck did you do, and where in the fuck have you been since all of this started? Don’t feed me any shit either. I’ll smell it coming off of you before you even speak it!”

Jamie’s face was a snarl of pain and resentment. “You don’t know a damn thing about any of this, but if you keep pinning me here and making a racket, see what happens.”

“Is that some kind of threat?”

“No, it’s just a fact. Listen, I came through all this crap to try and help whoever was left. I didn’t do what I did to get anyone killed, not directly. I’ve been a prisoner of that bitch for years now. She took everything—my lovers, my self-worth, my dignity. It’s all piss in the wind because I looked the wrong way on the wrong night.”

A skitter of claws and musical laughter sent them darting into another alley. Whatever else was going on, Jamie was clearly just as threatened by the beasts and vampires as the rest of them. “See? Those fucking lunatics are all over the place and just as bad as the women. Hell, worse!

“Listen, I get it. I’m not all that trustworthy. I didn’t do the right thing for a long time because I didn’t have any other choice, but she turned me loose a little while ago, so I’m just as much at risk as you. Probably more so, now that I’m trying to help.”

Jamie met Jenna’s eyes. “I wanted to try and make things right. I’m really, really sick of being the guy everyone pushes around, the one that doesn’t take risks. I’ve been hearing all my life about how I never take chances. I guess this is me taking chances for once, with my balls in my throat and stomach in my shoes, but I’m trying.”

Jenna smiled at him, the tension melting away, her hands softening at her sides. It was the quietest she’d been all night, and with the moonlight hitting her face, lighting up the edges and making her shine, it was also the most beautiful she’d been. Jamie couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before, that light just behind her eyes, so like Mary and as broken and needy as Nico.

“Three is a good number,” said Jenna. “This all started with three, and it should finish that way too.” It didn’t make any sense, but Jamie nodded anyway. He knew it was the right answer for her, if no one else.

Lucy was still a ball of tension, however, her muscles taught and her eyes darting back and forth between them, trying to figure out what had happened. “Fine, she trusts you. You make her calm, but you’d better not make me regret—”

That was when they were found.

A wall of ravening, bloody men barreled down the alleyway behind Lucy, meeting her from behind. Jamie was pinned to the spot for a moment, watching in horror as they came at her. They gathered her limbs in their many awful, grasping claws and lifted her up for all to see.

Jamie grabbed Jenna by the hand, and they fled the other way down the alley.

“Don’t look,” Jamie told her, but he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. It was an imperative moment, a thing he couldn’t look away from.

Screaming and fighting them as they moved her up and around, Lucy pulled her body taught. Her mouth became an O of horror. With power and ferocity beyond the power of man, the lunatics hooted and howled and pulled her apart in several directions with a wet, rending pop.

Her shrill screams were the terrible sound of animal agony. Blood and entrails shot out like rain over them, and they caught it all in clenched fists, devouring and snarling at each other as they consumed all that was left of Lucy.

What have I done? What have I become?

The mutilation over, Jamie pulled Jenna along and off in a direction he knew would be safe.

* * *

With a solid kick to the gut and a little lift with the help of some stairs, Angela managed to come up just enough to get a good solid swing, one that whipped the head from one of the harpies and slid right on through into the throat of one of her burly companions.

Aha, a twofer! This really is a right handy little beast.

She swung the spax back the other way and spiked the back of it through the throat of another of the Renfields and pulled. Blood and bits of gore came away, dropping the poor lunatic bastard before he knew what had happened to him.

It spattered her with a lot more blood and bits than she’d wanted to deal with, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. Better to shrug it off and get back to work.

Hmm, wonder how many that leaves now. I got two creeping around the vineyard, thinking they were so damned cunning, the cunts!

A long scream roared out, followed by hooting and growling down an alley four or five over from where she stood. It had sounded an awful lot like Lucy.

Poor thing. Well, there’s nothing for it now.

* * *

Paul was starting to think that maybe he was getting just far enough from Derosso to consider it safe when he started to hear things.

Oh, bloody hell.

He wrote off the first few swooshing sounds as the wind slipping between the trees, creating a bizarre sort of breathy whisper he knew from his childhood. It was the sound summer nights made when he was alone under the trees and listening to the quiet night on his dad’s estate, probably the only time he had ever been anything but restless.

Then, it started getting louder, sounding a lot more like words, words that came from that voice, the one that promised him death earlier tonight and swore retribution for Barry’s crimes.

“Oh, sweet fucking Christ.”

A shiver of horror slipped up his spine, reverberated in his bones, and whispered up into his skull. It was a physical thing, like a snake coiled beneath his flesh, touching him in ways that could not be possible, caressing his insides and whispering along his vertebrae. It caused his balls to retract high into his body.

Hello, Paulie. Miss me? I’ve been looking for you, you know. Can’t have you just slipping off.

“What do you want?”

What do you suppose I want? What does your cold, greedy little heart tell you I want?

“I-um…I can’t say.”

Viktoriya laughed, a cold and terrible thing that finally brought his forward motion to a stop, freezing him in place.

“Do you want me dead? Cause if that’s what it is, maybe you ought to just do it instead of beating around the bush, yeah?”

If you insist.

She laughed again, a cruel sound echoing all around him. White hot agony shot through him, pressure building as the ephemeral nothing that she was became solid. All that she was pushed the very real bits of his insides left, right, up, down and everywhere it didn’t belong, pushed and then burst him apart.

Bye, Paulie.

Where he’d stood a moment before was a very bloody and smiling Viktoriya. Amused, she walked off into the trees, slipped back into mist, and made for the village of Derosso.

* * *

Jenna smiled to herself. She imagined going back home, curling up on her comfy little couch with Cattabulous in her lap and Jamie by her side.

It was a sweet image, sweeter than confronting what happened to Lucy, sweeter than the truth she knew was coming, sweeter than the terrible nothing of her past and the darkness that ate her up in numbers, colors and so many thoughts, so many questions. Mom, I wish…I wish things could be different. I wish that I could have a normal life.

Her mother answered her in her mind’s eye. What good is normal when it only brings you pain? What good can it do you if all it does is make you worry? It’s time now, Jenna, time you went out and lived your life. Go, enjoy your time, have your Cattabulous and don’t worry over it. It’s your gift. You will know when it’s time, and you will find your destiny isn’t so bad when you’ve faced it head on.

Are you sure, Mom?

Yes, my dear, I’ve always known you would be great.

“Jenna?” Jamie’s voice was so soothing when she heard it again. It was quiet here, away from the violence of the streets of Derosso, back at the Derosso Grande, locked away in a room of their own.

He’d been looking out the window for a long time now. He wanted to be sure that everything was safe, that they could talk. There was a lot they had to talk about now, plans to be made, choices to be considered.

She knew just what had to happen now, and her mother had been right. It wasn’t so bad. Her mind was finally quiet. All the numbers, all the words and colors and random information that flooded her every waking moment had slipped away. She became clear, refined, renewed. All she had to do now was wait.

His eyes were on her now, they shined, bright and clear but oh so sad. “Jenna…Jenna I have to tell you something about me, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

* * *

Strange, they don’t seem to be anywhere, and yet I haven’t seen any bodies either. Could they have turned?

For a moment the old familiar pain lanced Angela’s heart, the reminder of Dallas and his dedication, his desire to make a better life for her, and finally his utter lack of forethought…

“I know what I’m doing, Babe. I’ve got this.”

“But vampires? Why do you have to work with vampires of all things?”

“One last job, then we’ll go away, make a go of it.”

“Don’t tell me about rugrats and a perfect life, Dallas. We both know it’s impossible for people like us. We can’t fucking hack that.”

He smiled his smile, leaned down to give her one last kiss, and then he opened the door to leave. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Ang. Just quiet for us now, quiet and all the time in the world…”

Anyone else might have teared up at the memory, but Angela growled and gritted her teeth, her face painted with blood. What’s the point in playing hero if you’ve got no one to save?

From somewhere over to the side of her, she heard a woman clear her throat. When she wheeled around, spax raised, she saw Stefania with her own shovel and a raised eyebrow. The end of the handle was broken off, leaving a sharpened wooden point. It was covered in blood.

I seem to have underestimated her, Angela thought. She doesn’t look half bad in that top and those shorts either. She sported a shit-eating grin. “So, how many have you gotten? And where have you been hiding your balls?”

Stefania’s eyebrow rose again. “Do you think any of these men would put up with a woman telling them what to do on a singles tour if she made it clear she could kick their ass every time she opened her mouth? Not these idioti! And the women have no trust for a woman they think behaves too much like a man.”

Angela laughed. It felt good to laugh after all of this time.

“I killed a few of the lunatics,” said Stefania, “but they’re easy. I killed one vampire, but only because I got lucky. The handle of my shovel broke, and she happened to fall on it as she pounced on me.”

“Well, I guess she got the point,” said Angela grinning.

“I guess she did.”

Was Stefania flirting? Maybe it was worth the trip after all.

* * *

Jamie was worried about what Jenna would think of him. God she’s going to think I’m insane. She’ll know soon enough, and by then it’ll be too late to do this right.

“It all started a few years back. I was 21 when I met her and…and everything that was good in my life went wrong. I thought it was bad then. I mean, I had friends, I had…a few relationships but nothing that stuck.”

He ran his hand through his hair, pausing before going on. “When she started to come to me in the night, at first I thought I was crazy, like I was having some fucked up nightmares, but it was really happening. Viktoriya, she came and she…”

Tears slipped from his eyes, hot, angry, and frustrated. “She would come and she would…she would fuck me. At least that was what I thought was going on at first.”

Jamie frowned. “Have you ever heard of, um…succubae?” He met her eyes, seeing her confusion but also a clear watchfulness. She was waiting, letting him explain. “Viktoriya…she’s one of those things…no, that’s not quite right.” He rubbed his index finger over his upper lip, thinking before he started explaining again. “Vampires…they’re like the real version of the succubae legend. In the legend they, uh… well this being called Lilith would come and steal the seed of men and she would…she would take it and make demon spawn. Sometimes, maybe, it would change sex and become a man to impregnate a woman with the baby.

“Viktoriya came to me for a long time, and she tortured me in so many ways, mentally, physically, and sexually. I guess maybe part of it was that I was lonely and insecure, a sort of perfect victim for this. The thing was—God am I…am I disgusting you?” He looked at her worried, his eyes blood shot and tired.

Jenna looked back at him calmly and gestured with her hand for him to go on. “No, tell me. If it makes you feel better, then it’s good, right? It means you can work through it like when I talk to Doctor Ed. I get it.”

Jamie took another breath and he went on, tears staining his face as they slid down one-by-one. “I met a girl after a while, her name was Mary, and despite all of this we managed to stay together, Mary and I. We made plans to get married, but things were really hard because Viktoriya was still coming to me and I wanted it to stop, so I told Mary. She said we should confront her, make her go away. They met that night and…and then Mary disappeared.”

“For a long time, I thought she murdered her…but no…” He broke down, tears coming down hard and fast as he struggled to get the words out. “Mary, Mary, she…”

* * *

Angela and Stefania made a perfect pair. Back to back, they met their foes full-on and unafraid. Over and over the lunatic Renfeilds came to attack, monstrous battering rams meant to destroy. One-by-one they fell under Angela’s spax and Stefania’s shovel, dead and useless corpses creating a mass of stinking detritus around the fountain where the two girls had chosen to stand their ground.

In time, there were no more Renfields to be found. Whoever survived must have fled the area. However, there were two vampires in the square. Tired and covered in blood, dirt, and all manner of offal, the warriors stood firm, waiting to see what the vampires would do.

All around them houses and buildings burned. Derosso was a charnel pit but for the Derosso Grande, which stood still and quiet, utterly empty and devoid of life. There were only a few more hours left to the night, and Angela and Stefania had to make it.

“Ready?”

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

“All right then.”

Stefania and Angela met the two vampires with a full volley of kicks, punches, and slamming thrusts from their farmer’s tools.

However, quick, cunning, and vicious, the vampires proved to be less easy to contend with than their human lunatic slaves.

* * *

Jenna crossed the space between them and threw herself into Jamie’s arms, holding him tightly to her own body. “I can see it hurts you.” She sighed and pushed herself away.

For a moment, Jamie thought that maybe she’d changed her mind, that she wanted him to leave, but instead she met his eyes with her own steady gaze. In a moment, she was slipping out of her clothes, revealing her warm curving body bit-by-bit to him in the moonlight. She’s so beautiful.

Moonlight clung to her every curve, her flesh a lovely pale color that complemented every other aspect of her being. She had high, full breasts tipped with dark, erect nipples. Her hips and thighs swelled out from her body in a counterpoint to her breasts.

She was beautiful in body, but she was also beautiful in mind and spirit, welcoming and free in a way that he was not. She stood tall and proud with her hand held out to him, waiting for him to cross the room to accept what she offered. Bewitching in her innocence, her trust.

“Jamie, make love to me.”

“I—”

“None of what came before matters. It’s just you and me now.”

“Jenna, I—”

“Shh. Come to me.” They were going to die, and Jenna decided at that very moment that she wasn’t going to die a virgin.

They hardly knew each other, and their movements at first were clumsy, but soon enough they were ready to couple. Jenna’s legs were thrust high on Jamie’s shoulders, her legs splayed and her body ready to receive him. “Jenna, what I am now…”

Jenna threw her arms up around him and entwined him with her legs, pulling him close and her folds up and around his member. He plunged deep inside her, and the pair started to thrust in locked rhythm fueled by adrenaline.

“I told you, Jamie, it doesn’t matter…now. It never…uhh…did. We are…one and the same, both…misfits.”

* * *

Stefania struck out, aiming for the vampire’s snarling face, but her hands were slick with old and congealing blood. The thrust was too hard, and without its handle the shovel very nearly slipped from her fingers, slipping just far enough to the left to miss her target.

The vampire charged straight at her. She grunted as it hit, letting the weight strike her and carry her down while keeping her hand as firmly locked on her weapon as she could manage.

The vampire’s toothy maw was spread open close to her face, and her arms were trapped tight under its grasp. It was not a good place to be and left her far too vulnerable. An involuntary shudder slipped through her as she struggled, making the vampire laugh. “Not such a pretty little vampire slayer now, are we? Oh, poor lost little thing!”

“Fuck you!” Stefania spit in the creature’s face, trying to put on a strong front but knowing it could smell her fear.

She heard Angela fighting her own battle a few feet away. She heard grunts, snarls, and small tings as the spax hit one thing and another. It seemed her companion was too busy fighting her own battle to come and free her.

No matter, she would do her best and if it wasn’t enough...

Stefania kicked and tossed, not letting her body be an easy target for the vampire as it dove toward her over and over again, laughing at her attempts to get free. Claws scratched at her face, leaving a snarl of ragged bloody lines on one cheek, burning and angry. Another sweep and her abdomen bled in long bloody furrows.

As Angela fought on in the distance, Stefania thought she heard her whimper. There was a clatter as her weapon fell, grunting, and the weight of a body hitting the pavement. Was it Angela? Am I alone and is this the end? No. No If I can just—

Stefania reserved her energy, counting a little as she watched for just the right moment. She thrust her thigh hard and fast into the vampire’s gut, following it up with a kick from her other leg.

It wasn’t much, but it bought her an extra few seconds. She swept her arm out, grabbed the bottom of her shovel lying next to her, and thrust it out the sharpened tip of the handle just as the vampire descended on her.

It stuck fast in the vampire’s chest, buried by the weight of its body and the power of its vampiric strength. Stefania pushed its still corpse to the side. She rose to her feet, flipped the shovel in her hands so she was gripping the handle, and thrust it down repeatedly, metal hitting pavement, severing the vampire’s head from her shoulders.

Only then did she risk looking up to assess the outcome of her companion and the remaining vampires. She didn’t see Angela at first. Bodies were strewn here and there at odd angles, dead and torn apart, making it hard to see the vampire and Angela grappling with each other.

Stefania saw the white snarl of Angela’s face as she thrust the brunette’s fanged mouth away from her throat and slit her belly open from waist to throat. Stefania threw herself across the distance and wrenched the vampire from Angel’s body. As it turned on her, Stefania drove her pointed handle into its heart.

As the demon lay dying on the ground, Angela and Stefania looked down into the vampire’s face, Angela’s spax held to its throat. “Where is that she-bitch? Tell us where she is.”

“Why should I?”

“Good question.” Tired and angry, Angela drove the hook at the back of her weapon through the vampire’s throat and ripped it out. Stefania severed the head and kicked it free of the body.

Stefania’s fine features were not so unappealing now, swathed as they were in blood and sweat, her eyes lit with bloodlust and the glory of battle writ all over her body. Close as they were, breathing in each other’s breaths and studying the other’s cool countenance, it wouldn’t be long before one of them crossed the distance, took that final risk, and owned the other’s vulnerability, trading it for hers.

Angela swept forward and pulled Stefania close, holding her to her body with one arm as she kissed her long and deep. It was a promise of other things to come, not least of which was the intimacy they’d lost in their pasts and were hungry for again.

They stood there with their foreheads pressed together, feeling the power of the moment, preparing to go to Feral Hearts where Viktoriya must surely return.

* * *

“What will we do now? Where do we go?”

Jenna looked up at Jamie, thick with the sweat of their lovemaking, and she kissed him. “We live.”

* * *

When Angela and Stefania went inside, they found the strip club empty of all of its inhabitants—all, that is, except the pair they found in a room to the right of the girls’ dressing rooms. They were wound into each other’s bodies, looking old and worn, two beings whose reliance on each other was clear.

“Good Christ, what is that?” Angela didn’t fear them, not in this moment, but her horror was writ all over her face. When she looked to her companion, she saw that Stefania was just as thrown.

The thing on the floor, the one that they knew must’ve been Viktoriya, now ancient and worn, opened her mouth to speak with an effort.

“Her name is…was Mary. I found her one night when Jamie tried to confront me to demand his freedom. She knew what he was, and she knew he had only to stand and face me with his power, but no one told him what he was. That I had no right to claim him. Angry, knowing what she knew and what she could do for me, I took her. I swept her away from his life.

“She is kin to me, a creature I could not find in all of my years of searching, a mother for my spawn, the others you murdered here in Derosso. I took what I needed from Jamie. I took his seed, and I gave it her to gain my little army, to begin my own safe haven here away from the humans that wished us harm. It was our nest, our safe haven, and she gave me every scrap of herself to save her Jamie. I loved her.

“What you see now is not what she was. This is death and decay, the soon to be rotting corpse of all my dreams. With every death, you murdered another piece of her, and in turn sapped away my power.

“We are succubae, beings you now know as ‘vampires.’ We are ancient, old as time, and now we are fading away as less and less of our mother spawn are born.” Her expression turned bitter. “You humans are inferior creatures. I…”

I think that’ll be enough of this. With a wide downward sweep of her spax, Angela drove a pit into the soft and pulpy head of Viktoriya, killing her before she could utter another word. “Good riddance.”

For a moment, she and Stefania were quiet as they took in all that had happened that night.

“Maybe she was going to say something really important,” said Stefania.

“I didn’t want to hear it,” said Angela. “What should we do now?”

Stefania smiled and took her hand. “How about we go and find out if my place is still there? We could shower and then, Bella, I think we could find a way to pass the time.

* * *

Jenna smiled up at Jamie. “We are nephilim, Jamie. The spawn of angels and humans. It’s why I was instantly drawn to you.”

“I-I felt it too. I didn’t know why, but I felt it.” His eyes widened in fear. “But, what about your OCD, your anxiety?”

Jenna flashed Jamie a sardonic grin. “I am half-human, ya know.”

“I’m no angel, Jenna. I can guarantee that.”

“That’s because you’re half human, too.”

“I don’t understand how this has anything to do with vampire succubae. I don’t understand any of this.”

“While we are born of angels, Viktoriya and her ilk, they are monstrosities born of anger and hate. That is why she wanted to possess you, dominate you. They are the fallen, and they despise the purity of our angelic background and the mortal frailty of our human side.

“Yet, once she tasted your angelic essence, your inner light, it was her undoing. Human blood no longer sustained her. She sensed what I was when she was outside the hotel. She let you go so you’d lead her to me. She thought she’d then have the both of us. But, without our blood, she withered away into nothingness.

“There is a war coming between the Dark and the Light. One day, in our time or in our children’s, we will be the ones who rise and save the humans.” Jenna smiled warmly. “I can already hear them whispering to me.”

Jamie looked at her in confusion. “They?”

“Our children. They’re already growing inside me.”

Chapter 13

Alternate Ending #3

So long, and fangs for all the flesh.

Mark Woods

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, thought Paul Clarkson as he and Barry 'The Needle' Nero staggered back into their hotel room. What the pissing hell just fucking happened back there?

His memories of the events just past were hazy. All he knew for certain was that sometime within the last hour, everything had just turned to shit.

So much for trying to clean my act up, Paul thought. One night. One night was all that it had taken for me to fall straight back into my old ways, ways I was supposed to be leaving far behind me in Blighty.

I had gotten myself ever so slightly drunk (okay, very drunk) and followed a stripper/ pole-dancer/ prostitute—whatever she fucking was—back to her home (which apparently doubled as a brothel) only for things to go just about as wrong as I could possibly imagine.

At least, he thought, I didn’t do any drugs. That was one out of three of his vices that he’d managed to avoid. That had to count for something, surely.

His mind flew back to a memory of snorting a line of coke off Viktoriya’s slender thighs, making his way slowly up her legs towards her moist, wet slit. Her panties were transparent, she was shaven, and Paul could see every detail of her most intimate area glistening in the crimson light.

Oh fuck, Paul thought, remembering. I hadn’t even been able to turn down a line of coke. I really am just a hopeless failure; just another sad and lonely junkie addict, hooked on my own nasty little habit, totally incapable of changing for even a few days.

Actually, Paul told himself, it had all been Barry’s fault, really. Everything had kinda been going okay before he helped make everything turn to shit!

From the moment they had been introduced in that silly initiation exercise the Rep had hosted in the hotel lobby, Paul had sensed Barry was a kindred spirit of sorts. He could tell straight away, though, that Barry was in the lower leagues when it came to his alcohol consumption and could in no way hold his liquor like Paul could. Still, at least there was someone on this trip that he could relate to.

Paul was surprised. He had caught a couple of episodes of the reality show Barry starred in (his father’s television station had aired the first season) and had always thought the man came over as a bit of a prick. In real-life, however, Paul thought there was a chance the pair of them might become buddies.

Of the other singles on this trip, Jamie struck him as a prissy little queer boy; Jenna had potential, but there was something a bit off about her, and she seemed to have some kind of OCD or some shit which Paul really couldn’t be doing with; Angela looked like a possible hook-up, and he thought she might just be a dirty little slut under that air of confidence and brashness she exuded; Lucy, though, was a definite no-no. He’d more than had his fair share of psychotherapists, or whatever it was she claimed to be, over the years. She’d probably be happier trying to psychoanalyze him than she would be fucking him!

Paul had been happy finding out he was to be bunking up with Barry. He was less impressed with babysitting him as they walked about town, however. Still, when they’d stumbled across Feral Hearts and Barry had strongly suggested they go in despite the advice they’d been given by the Rep, Paul had quickly realized he’d been right. Barry was exactly his type of guy!

With so few other available options in the group, and with little chance of any other fresh pussy joining them any time soon (with that bomb scare in London delaying flights ‘n’ all), Paul had positively jumped at the chance to go enter the club and maybe score a bit of action.

That was where it had all gone wrong.

* * *

Viktoriya and the other girl, Anya (and surely it was my eyes…there was no way her tattoo kept moving, Paul thought), had taken them both back to their house. It was a former, long abandoned hotel situated up on the hill overlooking town.

As soon as they entered, Paul recognized the house immediately for what it was. With its gaudy coloured lighting and the steady thump, thump, thump of hardcore Russian techno pumping out, it might well have been where the girls from the club all lived but it was also most definitely a house of ill repute.

As soon as they were through the door, the two girls straight away began ushering both men upstairs. Paul caught a brief glimpse of a lounge area occupied by several women wearing very little, and then was escorted up a wide and very ornate staircase to the floor above. Barry was pushed into one room with Anya. Viktoriya pushed Paul into another, neighboring room lit by crimson coloured candles. It didn’t take long at all for things to start getting extremely hot and heavy.

Viktoriya stripped down to her underwear, and she and Paul quickly started getting into it. Lots of kissing and lots of teasing ensued. After a little bit of coke, Paul soon found himself between her thighs, eagerly licking and tonguing her to orgasm. Rising to his feet, his erection bulging in his pants, Paul stripped down and slipped on one of the emergency condoms he always kept close at hand. As he turned to mount Viktoriya, she grabbed him violently and threw him on the bed.

“I like to be in control,” she told him and climbed on after him, discarding her panties as she moved. Slower now, she lowered her slick wetness down upon his erect shaft and sensually began kissing and licking his neck as she thrust herself down upon him. Paul moaned and knew he wouldn’t be lasting long, not this first time at any rate. Then, from next door came the sound of breaking glass, raised voices, and screaming.

Fuck, thought Paul. What’s Barry done now? I hope he hasn’t tried to pull off any kinky kind of shit…

Viktoriya was up and off him before Paul had even had a chance to register that she’d moved. He grabbed his trousers, pulled them on, and nabbed his shirt from the floor as he followed her out into the corridor. Without even waiting for a second, Viktoriya kicked in the door of the neighboring bedroom. “You are so dead, motherfucker,” she hissed as Paul brushed past her and entered the room.

Shit on it, Paul spoke solely in his mind. What the hell did that idiot do?

Anya was lying on the floor, broken mirror glass and blood spread all around her. Barry was on top, straddling her, plunging a shard of glass in and out her neck. He had nearly taken her head off, and yet her glassy eyes still stared up at Paul coldly as though looking into his soul, even though any spark that might once have been there was now blatantly gone.

Barry was bleeding and covered in blood. Pools of it ran down the hand holding the mirror glass he’d attacked her with. It was also flowing freely from a bite wound to his neck. The bite had just neatly missed his jugular.

“Christ, Barry, you fucking killed her! What did you go and do that for?” Paul cried.

Barry stared up at him, only now registering Paul was there. “Look at her Paul…look at her. She’s not human! Fucking bitch bit me!”

Paul looked down, and at second glance could see exactly what Barry meant. Anya's mouth was open, frozen, not in a scream as Paul had first thought but caught paused in the act of taking a massive bite.

Inside her mouth were teeth. Sharp teeth. Too many teeth. Whatever Anya had been, there was no mistaking now that she could ever possibly be considered human.

Paul turned towards Viktoriya, about to ask what the hell was going on, but she held up her hand and rested her crimson nails against his naked chest to stop him.

“Not so fast, Lover Boy…” she told him. “You two cattle aren’t going anywhere. Your friend killed Anya. Now both of you have to pay the price…you belong to me now. Everyone in this town belongs to me."

Her face was beginning to change. Her eyes were narrowing to cat-like slits, her jaw starting to extend. Paul thought he saw fangs descending where her normal teeth had been only moments before.

“Fuck!” Paul hit Viktoriya hard with a right cross. He kicked out with his foot, sending the bitch, or whatever the fuck she was, right across the hall where she connected with the wall with a loud thud.

Paul thought he might’ve broken her neck as she slumped to the floor. Years before, he had spent some time in illegal underground fight clubs and knew how to attack and attack hard.

He reached over and pulled Barry to his feet. “C’mon, man, we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

The pair hurried to the end of the corridor where Paul had spotted a fire escape. Behind them Viktoriya started getting back on her feet again, cracking her neck back into place. “That’s it. You just try and run, you motherfuckers!"

Paul pushed down on the bar of the fire door and yanked Barry with him out into the cool night air.

"There's no place for you to go,” she called after them. “We own this fucking town!"

Paul and Barry quickly began descending down the fire escape. No sooner had they hit the ground then they did indeed begin to run.

* * *

The only reason Viktoriya had gone down, Paul reasoned, was because she had been in the midst of a change; likewise Anya. That was how Barry had managed to kill her. If either of them had finished transforming into whatever they had been changing into, Paul had no doubt that both of them would now be dead.

“We gotta get back to the hotel,” Paul told Barry, still bleeding from the neck. His hand appeared to have stopped it for now, though Paul didn't think it'd take much to get it starting again.

Paul fingered his own bite marks, which were less severe than Barry’s. “We’ll take the back and side streets. They won’t expect that. They’ll be expecting us to take the most direct route.”

“What if we get lost?” Barry asked.

“We won’t,” Paul replied. “I never get lost. It’s kind of a talent I have, like a sixth sense.”

They fled into the night…

* * *

Viktoriya was pissed off, really pissed off. She had first lain eyes on Jamie whilst abroad for a meeting of the Vampyre Council, when she had spotted him in the street below the empty apartment where she was hiding out.

She quickly became obsessed. She wanted him for her new human servant. Her last Renfield (their name for human servants taken from a popular book by a certain Bram Stoker, more as a kind of in-joke than a tribute) had died in her services, and she had yet to replace him. She sensed Jamie was a pretty-boy, a bit effeminate and weak-willed, but thought that he would serve her well nonetheless.

In the weeks and months that followed, she manipulated his life, broke his will, and reduced him to a fragile mental state. Essentially, she made him need her.

Then she called him to Italy to be with her.

Her plans had all changed tonight, at the Club, when she had first met Paul. In a single instant, Jamie became nothing to her. Paul was so much stronger mentally and would present her with much more of a challenge, but she knew as soon as she saw him that she needed him beside her.

Viktoriya now planned to have Paul fill the role that had once been intended for Jamie. What could she say? She was fickle. A few centuries of un-life could do that to a girl.

Viktoriya and Anya had brought Paul and the male-bull companion he was with back to their townhouse lair. Anya had wanted to play with the big stud whilst Viktoriya converted Paul, but unfortunately that had ended very badly for Anya.

Now both Barry and Paul were going to have to pay. The whole town was going to have to pay. Viktoriya decided she had enough of this Italian provincial town. It was time to move on and find a new home for herself and her girls, preferably before any vampire hunters managed to find them and get back on their trail.

Tonight Derosso was going to burn. When she and her brethren were done, Viktoriya and her girls were going to leave nothing left.

Nothing but ashes.

* * *

Paul expertly guided Barry around the side streets as though he had lived in Derosso all his life. He had no explanation for how he did this. It was just a knack he'd always had.

As they ran, the sounds of screams and baying at the moon could be heard all over town. Paul didn’t know what was going on, but he did know they needed to get off these streets and back to the hotel, like now.

Eventually, they arrived. Paul waited till the night porter on duty was looking the other way, and then snuck them both back upstairs.

Paul was trying to keep things quiet. Unfortunately, Barry had become almost delirious—crying and shaking, rendered almost useless for now through a combination of pain, shock, and horror at what had just gone on. Paul was running on adrenaline. Though he could barely remember doing them, the drugs were still running through his system and keeping him going. When he eventually came down, it was gonna be a bitch.

Suddenly, two of the girls in their group, Lucy and Jenna, burst into their room. There was no sign of Angela.

* * *

"What do you mean vampires?" Lucy asked.

"You know," Paul tried valiantly to explain, "vampires. Big teeth, scary eyes, allergic to garlic."He couldn't blame Lucy. He wouldn't have believed it either if he hadn't seen the girls from the club both start to change.

"To be fair," Barry interjected, “we don't know that they're allergic to garlic..."

Paul just stared at him.

"Er, guys," Jenna was calling from the window. "Isn't that Jamie down there? What's he doing?"

* * *

Jamie stood before Viktoriya in the front courtyard of the hotel and gently shivered. If anything, she looked even more gorgeous and desirable than before, but at the same time Jamie was more scared than he had ever been in his entire life.

He had done exactly as she bid. Surely, now things must’ve been over between them. As much as he wanted her, secretly Jamie also wished he could just walk away and never look upon that face ever again.

"Is that it?" Jamie asked. "Are we square? Will you finally leave me alone?"

"You are free," Viktoriya said reluctantly, “but first I need your assistance for one last thing...I need you to die."

Jamie stood there, frozen in fear, unsure for a moment if he had heard her correctly. Viktoriya raised her hand and the former men folk of the town, driven insane by blood lust, rushed forward to leap upon him.

"Feed, my minions," she called out to them. "Eat, drink, and grow strong!"

Jamie tried desperately to fight, but there were too many of them. He felt hands, claws, and nails tearing at him, ripping off pieces of his flesh so that they could feed.

He tried to scream, but the bitter taste of salty copper filled his mouth as he began to drown in his own blood.

* * *

Jamie’s thoughts were full of regret. He had never planned for things to end this way. He had never meant to sell out and betray his fellow travelers, but from the first moment he had realized the truth, that he had been drawn here, that Viktoriya had lured him here like a fish on a hook, Jamie’s fate had been sealed.

Jamie had come here to get away from the dreams and visions he had been having ever since his ex-girlfriend Mary had disappeared back in New York, shortly after confronting Viktoryia. His vain attempts to form other relationships, following her disappearance, had all ended in disaster. This holiday was supposed to have been his fresh start, his chance to get away and start friendships anew. Only it hadn’t worked out like that.

Viktoriya had been waiting for him. She had set all these events in motion just so that she could pull him deeper into her clutches. She had ‘persuaded’ him to betray his new friends so that they could feed together and strengthen the bond between them that Viktoryia had begun to build with him back in New York.

Only something must have happened, that bitch must have changed her mind, because as soon as Jamie had done exactly as he was bid, Viktoryia had turned around and betrayed him just as she had expected him to do to the others!

Now Jamie was receiving the kind of justice normally reserved for those of his kind—traitors. In a way, he thought it was a kind of Karma.

Jamie was torn. On the one hand, he rued the day he had ever laid eyes on Viktoryia. On the other, he cursed himself for being so foolish as to ever consider they might share a future together.

In his final moments, Jamie fervently wished he could say he was sorry to the others, apologize for selling them out the way he had and for ever involving them in Viktoryia’s sadistic manipulations, but it was too late.

Jamie was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Thankfully, he did not suffer for long.

* * *

Viktoriya and her fellow vampyre stood back as her revenants ripped apart the mortal once known as Jamie. They were no longer human, but not yet full vampyre either. They were more something in-between. They were weak souls, the former men-folk of the town, driven insane by bloodlust and their frustrated desire for the power they knew they would never be allowed to receive.

Neither fully one thing nor another, they were useful for brute force when needed, such as tonight, but for very little else. Once they helped her destroy the town, Viktoriya would leave them here to burn along with all of the other cattle and would simply create more of their kind as and when needed.

In truth, Viktoriya and her brethren were not really vampyre either. That was just a name they had appropriated for themselves over time, taken from the stories passed along by humans trying find an explanation for what these creatures that preyed on them were.

The majority of such stories were false. Though sunlight weakened them and hurt their eyes, it was not true that it killed them outright, for example. Likewise, though their bodies were far stronger and much more impervious to damage, it was not true either that they could not be killed. Anya was a prime example of that, but Anya had been clumsy.

Viktoriya and her brethren had been around for centuries and were one of mankind’s only surviving predators still around today. Because they had grown adept at staying hidden through hiding in plain sight, thankfully only a small proportion of their prey actually still believed in their existence, and these were few and far between.

These few had named themselves vampire hunters and dedicated their lives to tracking down Viktoriya and her kind. Currently the last of these that Viktoriya had encountered were still in Russia. They knew that their prey left to start new lives elsewhere, but had no idea where.

After tonight they would. The burning of Derosso would be used to send them a message.

Don't fuck with us!

Viktoriya raised her hand again and summoned her sisters to gather all around her.

"Blue," she called to her new second in command, now that Anya was gone. "Take a few of the girls and some of the revenants and spread throughout the town. Disable all the vehicles first, and then start slaughtering and feasting on the cattle. Tonight we are going to have the feast to end all feasts, but I want to make sure NONE get away. The young calves die first, their flesh will be sweeter.

“The rest of you, follow me! The ones responsible for the death of Anya and their friends are inside. Kill them all, but leave the one named Paul for me. I want him for myself. Anybody touches him and I will stake you out and leave you to the mercy of the hunters that will be arriving in the aftermath. Do I make myself clear?”

Her comrades all cheered in response, so loud it momentarily interrupted the revenants from their meal.

"Then let's go!" Viktoriya commanded. As the hoard split up to go their separate ways, one group headed towards the rest of the town whilst the others followed Viktoriya through the double doors in front of them and into the lobby of the Derosso Grande.

Mary Brodigan paused for a second as she passed what was left of Jamie's body. She had loved him once, she thought. Then Viktoriya had taken her. Gifted her with immortality, whether she wanted that gift or not.

Now a mere shadow of her former herself, she was driven by an insatiable hunger that blocked out most of her memories of her life before. If there was any true recognition remaining, it was not apparent. The only thing she felt now was a burning desire for blood that needed to be sated.

That and the thrill of the upcoming chase.

* * *

“Oh, oh my God! Jamie…They-they killed him!” Jenna exclaimed, totally distraught at what her eyes had just seen happening below.

“That’s not all,” Paul added. “It looks like the rest of them are all headed this way! We need a plan. Fast. And we need to get the fuck out of here the quickest way possible!”

“I got my plan right here,” Barry said from the far corner of the room, still holding onto his neck but now with a gun sitting in his hand.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Paul asked. “More importantly, how the hell did you get it past customs?”

“I’m a big Reality TV star,” Barry told them. From behind Paul, Lucy just snorted in derision. “Plus, I’m American. I never go anywhere without a gun. I pulled a few strings, got it sent over from a local guy I know. His cousin’s cousin once appeared on my show.”

“You know how to use it?” Lucy asked.

Barry pulled a face. “Pu-lease, I’ve been shooting guns since I was in diapers.”

“Regardless, we still need a plan,” Paul continued, “and someone should wake Angela. We should all probably stick together.

“While we’re at it, we could do with Stefania. She knows the town and might be able to help us all survive this.” He reached up, unhooked the chain after checking the coast was clear, and opened the bedroom door.

“I’m here,” Angela said, standing in the hall outside. “You lot really need to learn to talk quieter. I could hear every word you said, even out here.”

“How long were you there?” Paul asked.

“Long enough,” Angela replied, “You woke me. I was sleeping.”

“You always sleep fully clothed?” Barry asked.

“I’m a survivor,” she retorted, “and the first lesson of survival is ‘always be prepared.’ Stefania’s room is further down the hall. We should go. All of us, now!”

“What about us?” Lucy and Jenna both asked, still in their pajamas.

“I’ve got some clothes that will probably fit,” Paul answered and tossed them the smaller of his three bags.

The boys both turned away as the girls quickly got dressed. Even Barry showed propriety for once. He was still too concerned about the bite in his neck. Now it was really starting to throb.

“Let me look at that,” Lucy offered, “Maybe I can do something. I mean, it’s not my field, but...”

“No time,” Barry said. “Those things could be up here any moment.”

“He’s right,” Angela said. “We’ve really got to move!”

The group quickly left Paul and Barry’s hotel room and started moving down the hall.

* * *

Chief of Police, Anthony Forelli, looked out of the window of his apartment above the town Police station and reached for the phone sitting on his desk. Behind him, he heard his Mama entering his study. Damn her, he thought, I told her to stay away!

Tony had a bad feeling for a while now. It was why he sent his wife and two daughters away for an extended holiday, to keep them safe. He didn’t expect his elderly, ailing Mama to travel half-way across the country to see him. Otherwise, he would’ve sent her away, too.

Derosso was a bad place to be around right now.

Like her son, Mama Forelli sensed something was wrong. She thought it might have something to do with that club she had passed coming here. The club was new. It had not been there on her last visit.

“Mama, go back to bed,” Tony told her. “Please, lock your door, get your Bible out, light some candles, and say a prayer. Just please, go back to your bedroom, lock the door, and don’t open it to anyone. Not unless you’re absolutely sure it’s me!”

He could see dark, demonic shapes running all across the town square. Some of them he recognized as former fellow police officers, young lads who had visited that damn strip club despite his warnings for them to stay away. Others were local men he had once seen about town, before all this began. He thought he saw some of the girls from the club, too. They were pulling people out into the streets and…biting them? Could that be real?

“What’s happening?” his Mama asked. “What did you do? What dark forces have you let enter this town?”

“Go to bed!”

Hearing her shut herself away back in her room and praying she would be safe there, Tony reached for his phone once more and quickly dialed a number he’d never thought he’d have to use.

“Something’s gone wrong,” he told the person who promptly answered his call. “You need to do something about the girls you sent down here. You need to help. They’ve gone feral, attacking the town’s people, eating them…”

The local boss on the other end sounded almost apologetic in his reply. Almost. “I’m sorry,” he told Tony, from where he sat safely several hundred miles away. “There’s nothing I can do. If you think that it is I that control them, then you are sadly very mistaken. I answer to them. They do as they like. If you have pissed them off, that is no concern of mine. It is your mess. You clean it up.”

The boss cut the line before Tony could respond. Heaven help us, he thought. What did I let into my town?

It was too late now. The damage was done.

Everyone in Derosso was now on the menu.

* * *

“Stefania, wake up!” Paul and Angela both banged on their tour guide’s door.

Jenna counted ceiling tiles, looking for odd numbers, and tried to keep herself calm. Lucy held her, stroked her back, and tried to help her relax. Barry kept watch all around them, though it worried Lucy both how red and inflamed the skin around his bite looked and the way he swung his gun around.

Stefania opened the door. It looked like she’d been packing a bag and was preparing to leave. She shrank back as she saw Paul and Barry in the hall.

“What did you do?” she demanded. “What did you two assholes do? I told you to stay away from that club and those girls. I told you to stay away from their house!”

“You knew?” Angela asked, incredulous. “You knew what those things were?”

“I have known for a long time now that something about them was wrong. They took the men first. The rest of the town has been cowering ever since…like cattle awaiting slaughter, knowing that their time has come.”

She looked at the two men.

“I warned you,” she told them both again. “I fucking told you! I told you to stay away from those wretched girls.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for recriminations later,” Paul said, slightly resentful at all the blame being laid at his and Barry’s door. “But, first things first—right now I think all of us really need to stick together and think about a way of getting the fuck out of here. You got a car?”

“Downstairs,” Stefania told them. “In the hotel car park.”

“Then let’s go,” Paul said and started to lead them down the hall.

“Not that way,” Angela stopped him. “This way. Follow me. We’ll use the rear stair case—the one used by all the staff. The vamps won’t be expecting us to take the back way out.”

“How’d you know that was there?” Paul asked.

Angela grinned. “Like I told you, I’m a survivor. Rule number Two: Always know where your exits are in case you need to make a quick escape.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Barry demanded.

Now that they were together again, the group all began to move.

* * *

Outside, on the streets, cars exploded as they were set alight and rendered unusable by the girls from Feral Hearts. Likewise, buildings were set aflame as the vampyre and their revenant army pulled the local people out onto the streets to feast upon.

Thick, acrid smoke rent the air and rose above the town. It blocked out the moon and made the night seem even darker. No one would be escaping here tonight if the girls and their followers had their way.

No one.

* * *

The group reached the rear staircase. Barry slumped to the floor of the corridor and refused to move any further.

“Go without me,” he told them. “I’m infected. The bite that bitch gave me, it did something to me. I’m changing, becoming something else, like them. I can feel it inside of me, working through my body.”

“Don’t be stupid, man,” Paul argued. “We’re a group. We need to stick together. Safety in numbers and all that happy, crappy bullshit.”

“I have this,” Barry held up his gun. “If they come after you, maybe I can hold them off a bit. I killed one of them bastards. Maybe I can kill some more. Besides, you know what they say: the best offense is a good defense. Let me do this. It’s all my fault this happened anyway.”

“If he wants to stay, let him stay.” Angela told them all. “We don’t have time for this. We need to keep moving!”

The rest of the group pushed open the door and started down the stairs beyond.

Lucy paused at the door. “Good luck, Barry,” she told him. Then she headed towards the stairs.

“I don’t think luck has anything to do with it,” Barry muttered to himself as the rest of them abandoned him. “Fate makes its own rules, and I brought this all down on myself.”

He raised his gun as the first screams of the vampyre and the revenant horde echoed down the corridor towards him.

Here we go…

* * *

As the group rapidly descended the back stairs, they could hear screams and the sounds of breaking glass coming from other floors. It sounded like the horde had begun an all-out assault on the hotel and were coming in through the windows.

Though Paul wasn’t sure just how many of the old stories about these creatures were true, it seemed at least one of them was. Judging from how high up they still were it seemed like at the very least, some of those creatures outside could fly!

Jenna was counting all the stairs aloud as they went down in multiples of nine. Paul didn’t ask why. If it kept her quiet and calm, then all the better. He thought that she was a flake, and it was probably only a matter of time before she snapped.

Suddenly, she broke off from her counting.

“We shouldn’t have left Barry,” Jenna erupted, stopping everyone in their tracks. “We’re dropping like flies—first Jamie, now Barry. We shouldn’t have left him. We shouldn’t have left him behind.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Paul responded, “Barry was bitten, badly. He probably wouldn’t have made it much further in any case. I’m not even sure how he made it back to the hotel.

“As for Jamie, it pretty much fucking looked like he fucking welcomed those bitches in here. Looked to me as though he betrayed us. Or am I wrong?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you swear waaay too much?” Jenna asked. “And I mean A LOT.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your counting everything all the time gets on everybody’s tits?” Paul responded. “Cos it does…it’s just no one wants to be the first to say anything.”

“Will you two pack it in!” Lucy intervened. “This is neither the place nor the time for this. Paul, try having a bit of compassion for a change. You have as much to answer for as Jamie, whatever his motivations might’ve been.”

Jenna started to think she and Lucy might be friends. Unnoticed, she began to shy back away from the arguing couple. If there was one thing she could not abide, (actually there were several things, but hey-ho) it was confrontation.

“Really?” Paul answered back at Lucy. “You want to start this now? Right when we’re busy, fleeing for our lives. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I was kind of hoping we might actually think about getting the fuck out of here before we started allocating blame, you know? I would actually like to live long enough to see my twenty-eighth birthday.”

“I thought you said in our introduction that you were twenty-six?” Lucy snapped back.

“I lied about my age, all right?” Paul responded. “Haven’t you heard, the closer you are to thirty, the less chance you have of scoring? How old are you again, by the way, Lucy? Twenty eight…twenty nine?”

“We really should get moving guys…” Angela interrupted. Stefania was looking anxious and seeing as how she was their ticket out of there…

From upstairs, two floors up, from where they’d just come, came the sound of gunshots.

Barry.

“C’mon, keep moving,” Angela said as the group began to continue their descent.

The lights went out.

For a moment, there was darkness. Then, emergency lighting all up and down the stairway flickered and came on.

It lit the way down, but only just about.

“Shit,” Paul said. “Angela’s right. Let’s move…”

* * *

Paul and the others had just passed the next stairwell when Jenna came to a pause. She swore someone or somebody had just called out her name.

In the dim emergency light of the staircase, no one else noticed her stopping just below the door that lead to the third floor as a shadowy figure stepped out onto the stairs and beckoned her towards him.

“Jenna?” The figure asked.

For a moment, Jenna’s eyes couldn’t quite focus. The image of the man swirled in front of her, and she wasn’t sure who she was seeing. She couldn’t tell in this light whether the figure looked more like her father or one of the tall Italian guys from off the plane.

Then suddenly her vision seemed to settle, and she was finally able to recognize the man in front of her. With a shock, Jenna realized the figure was her psychologist, Doctor Ed!

He stepped back, pulling her out of the stairwell and onto the third floor. “I’m so glad I found you,” he told her. “Your parents were worried about you. They asked me to fly out here and make sure you were all right. I arrived about an hour ago. There was a bomb scare and the flight was delayed. I just managed to unpack, and then everything all went crazy.”

That wasn’t right, Jenna thought. The bomb scare had been in London…and why would Doctor Ed drop everything, his plans with his family, just to come all the way out here and see her?

“No,” Jenna shook her head. “You’re not Doctor Ed. You can’t be. That’s impossible.” She started to back away.

“And why’s that?” Doctor Ed asked, curious.

“Because Doctor Ed doesn’t exist!” Jenna all but shouted. “I made him up to keep me calm. He’s all in my head!”

“Well,” said the vampyre, shedding her disguise. “I suppose you can’t win them all…”

The scantily clad stripper leapt upon Jenna before she could escape, slamming her prey hard against the stairwell door. Ripping open Jenna's throat, the vampyre let her warm, salty blood wash all over her as she fed. She could taste the fear running through the young cattle’s veins, increasing her frenzy all the more.

“Oh Sweetie, your blood tastes gooood…” the vampyre positively purred, as Jenna lay dying slowly in her arms.

Jenna knew nothing. For her, everything had already faded to black.

* * *

The group had just reached the next stairwell when Lucy stopped abruptly. “Where’s Jenna?”

From up above came the sound of shouting, coming from the floor they had just passed. There was an almighty thud against the door leading to that floor…then nothing.

The entire group immediately and instinctively came to the exact same realisation at precisely the same time. The voice they’d all heard shouting was Jenna’s.

“It’s too late for her. They got her.” Paul pushed Lucy hard, urging her to keep going and moving on.

“No,” Lucy answered back, “we don’t know that.”

“Feel free to go and check,” Paul told her sarcastically, and continued following Angela and Stefania down the rest of the stairs.

Lucy paused. She almost went back. Then she heard the sounds of screaming and howls coming from the other side of the door, presumably as more undead broke onto that floor.

Quickly, she turned and moved to join the others.

She didn’t look back.

* * *

They reached the bottom floor about a minute later. The stairs ended in the middle of a short corridor. One way stretched off towards the hotel kitchens, and the other ended in a door that presumably lead out to the rear of the hotel and hopefully the car park.

Angela turned left towards the kitchens. “We should all grab knives,” she explained. “That way, at least we’ve all got weapons.”

Paul grabbed a cook’s knife, sharp and deadly with a precision edge. Testing it on his finger drew blood which, Paul noted, caused Angela to stiffen at the sight.

Angela took a cleaver, and Lucy and Stefania picked up smaller blades. They headed back down the corridor towards what they all hoped was the exit to the rear of the hotel.

Together, all four of them slipped out the door and found themselves in a bin area situated at the back of the hotel. Stefania grabbed the door before it could swing shut.

“Figlio di troia!” She cursed. “I dropped my car keys!” She had been toying with them all the way down the back stairs, Paul remembered. He hoped to God she hadn’t dropped them somewhere on the stairs, otherwise they were all going to be fucked.

“I put them down when I picked my knife,” Stefania explained. "I'll go and get them…”

She headed back inside.

“Stefania, wait,” Angela started, but she spoke too late as the door swung back behind Stefania. The door had only one handle, and that was on the other side. There was no way for any of the rest of them to go after her.

“Bollocks,” Paul uttered.

* * *

Stefania headed back down the corridor and saw her keys glistening on a table in the middle of the kitchen, exactly where she’d left them. As she walked over towards them, a door at the far end of the kitchen opened and one of the vampyre, dressed in very little, slowly drifted into the room.

Stefania ducked quickly behind one of the kitchen benches as the vampyre, accompanied by one of the revenants, entered the kitchen, sniffed the air, and promptly turned straight in the direction of her hiding place.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” the vampyre taunted. Knowing it was hopeless and that she had very little chance of an escape, Stefania reluctantly got to her feet.

The moment she did so, the once-human revenant leapt towards her. Stefania stepped back and as she did, slashed out with her knife, leaving a deep gash across the creature’s chest. Hurt, the revenant retreated, preparing to pounce again and glaring at the human who had dared to cut him.

Stefania thought she recognized the creature. Though his features were now noticeably altered, he closely resembled one of the old widowers who, until recently, had lived in the town. Stefania thought he was the one who used to run Derosso's local general store, but she wasn’t sure. She had only been in there once or twice before the store’s sudden and mysterious closure. Rumor had it the owner had gone mad, totally and irreversibly insane. No one talked about why.

He had been the first of many.

Stefania had her suspicions. Recently it seemed as though many of the local men had all started to go crazy, almost all at once. The only thing that linked their sudden common madness was the arrival in town of the Feral Hearts strip club and the brothel on the hill.

Stefania had no proof, but staring at this creature before her, Stefania thought she knew for definite now exactly what had been going on. Her suspicions had been proven. The vampyres had been slowly converting the men of the town into these…things. Twisted monstrosities of the people they once had been.

This creature had once been human. Now, he seemed to have reverted to a primal state, more beast-like in nature. Walking on all fours, the nails on his hands and feet had been replaced by long claws, and his mouth was now filled with way too many teeth to fit his jaw, causing him to drool uncontrollably.

Those were not human teeth sitting in his mouth any more either, but teeth designed specifically to rip and tear...and maul. They were the teeth of an unnaturally born predator, and she was the prey.

Slipping her keys slowly into her pocket so she wouldn’t lose them again, Stefania put down her knife and pulled out the small crucifix from around her neck she had been given by her mother when she was seven. Thrusting it out in front of her, holding it in both hands, Stefania began to chant the Lord’s Prayer in Italian.

The revenant hissed at the sound and backed further away. His eyes locked on the crucifix as he tried to put as much distance between him and the religious emblem as he could.

“That may work on him, Sweetie,” the vampyre said as she stepped forward, “but don’t think your little toy will work on me. Your false God holds no power over me."

With one clawed hand, the vampyre reached out and snatched the crucifix from Stefania’s fingers, breaking the chain effortlessly. Looking straight into the eyes of her prey, the vampyre slipped the silver crucifix into her mouth and swallowed.

Stefania could see the cross and the chain clearly disappearing all the way down the foul creature’s throat as they went down. A small hiss of steam emerged from out the vampyre’s mouth.

Apart from that, there appeared to be no other sign of ill effect.

The vampyre smiled, a grin that revealed far too many teeth, and stepped even closer towards Stefania. There was barely even a hair’s breadth between them.

Unable to move and completely frozen in fear, Stefania felt her bladder letting go and a trickle of urine running down her leg. She felt ashamed, but she had never in her life been as scared as she was now. She reached for her knife but, in her blind fumbling, couldn’t find it.

“You know,” the vampyre said, “your kind really are quite…pathetic. Are you afraid, little one? Are you scared? You should be. Not even your pitiful false God can save you now…”

Backed up against the wall with nowhere to go, realizing the hopelessness of her situation and that she might actually be about to die, Stefania opened her mouth to scream.

She never got a chance.

Before Stefania could register what was about to happen, the vampyre lashed out with her claws, opening up her victim’s throat in a geyser of blood. It leapt upon her and started to feed, lapping up the lifeblood that flowed from Stefania’s body as she fell, slowly dying, to the floor.

With her body bleeding out and only seconds left to live, Stefania attempted to reach behind her and lay hands on her knife. Finally, able to snag it in her last few moments, Stefana swung it around, but the vampire easily deflected the weak blow, breaking Stefania’s wrist in the process.

Stefania barely noticed. By then, it was too late anyway.

The former guide was dead. Gone. No more.

The vampyre dropped Stefania’s lifeless, drained corpse to the floor like an unwanted doll and prepared to move on. There were plenty more where this one had come from. Hopefully, the next one might put up a bit more of a fight. She liked a challenge.

Somehow their blood always tasted better when they struggled.

* * *

“Stefania! Stefania!”

Lucy frantically banged on the door outside, but to no avail. Paul pulled her away. Angela just stood watching the pair, detached.

It had been five minutes.

“She’s not coming back. Those bitches must have gotten to her,” Paul reluctantly told Lucy. “If they hadn’t, she would have been back by now.”

“They’re picking us off one-by-one,” said Angela. “Taking the weakest first, thinning the herd. Like lions do with gazelle, or sharks with their prey. We should get moving again. Others will be coming.”

From the streets beyond the hotel screams, howls, shrieks, and cries could be heard issuing from throughout the town. People were being killed, and Paul could smell burning.

“Now what are we going to do?” Lucy practically yelled at them both. “Where are we going to go? What’s your fucking plan now? Huh?”

“There’s the police station,” Paul suggested. “There’s bound to be some kind of vehicle there we can steal. And guns. You can’t tell me a police station in a town as fucked as this one isn’t gonna have any guns. Maybe we might even be able to call for help.”

“Do you even know how to get there?” Lucy asked, on the verge of panic. She was getting close to losing it, Paul realized, and really who could blame her?

Angela just stood there, remaining silent, detached, and simply watching them both.

“Trust me,” Paul said. “I’ll be able to find it. We’ll take the back streets. I’ll get us there. I have this kind of spooky sixth sense of direction. I never get lost.”

For the second time that night, Paul found himself reluctantly taking control, almost despite himself. He didn’t like it, but there simply wasn’t anybody else left. Lucy was about to flake, and Angela was so unresponsive. There were many things that Paul wasn’t, and one of them was a natural born leader.

All Paul really wanted to do was survive

* * *

Tony Forelli threw down the radio transmitter on which he had been attempting to call for back-up and cursed in Italian. Since the local boss who’d brought the girls here had hung up on him, all the phone lines had gone down. His cell phone wasn’t working, and he couldn’t call out on the police radio transmitter either. All communications outside the town were down.

He, his Mama, and the rest of the town were on their own and pretty much fucked by his reckoning. The only chance he and his Mama had of surviving, it seemed, was to try and escape before things got any worse.

The rest of Derosso could fend for itself.

Opening up the police station’s weapon locker, Anthony armed himself with a shotgun and plenty of shells. He then headed back upstairs to his apartment above the station and knocked loudly several times on the guest bedroom door.

“Who is it?” his Mama called from inside.

“Mama, it’s me!”

“How do I know it’s you?”

“Because I’m the only one with the balls to tell you that your meatballs taste like merda!”

The door slowly opened.

Tony reached in and quickly pulled his mother out into the hall. She slapped him hard on his face, presumably for the commentary on her meatballs.

“We’re leaving, Mama. Now. I did a bad thing. I let evil things into this town, and now they’ve gone mad. We have to go.”

“What sort of evil things?” Mama asked him.

“Vampiro,” Tony said, and that was enough. Mama knew enough of the old ways to know what he was referring to.

Within minutes, the two of them were making their way out of the rear exit of the police station.

Tony prayed silently for the first time in years.

* * *

Paul, Angela, and Lucy were no more than a couple of blocks away from the police station when the undead took another of their number.

Though Paul seemed confident, he knew where they were headed. Lucy was less than sure. The twists and turns they seemed to be taking left her feeling confused and disoriented. That, added to the increasing amount of smoke and fumes she was breathing in, was not a good combination.

She paused to take a breath and when she looked up, Paul and Angela were gone.

Shit, she thought.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, hurt and bleeding. It took Lucy a second to recognize her own father. There was something different about him though, something not quite right. Lucy couldn’t place it, but was just too relieved in that moment to see him to really know or care.

“Dad?” she asked, confused at what he was doing in Derosso and convinced that she was hallucinating.

“Lucy,” her father replied, “thank God I found you. Your mother sent me here to keep an eye on you. She was more worried about you than she let on and told me to come after you, follow you, and make sure you were okay for a few days before flying back. I’d just decided to check out some of the town when all of this started happening.

“What is going on? Why are all those women back out on the street running around killing everybody?”

“Oh, Daddy!” Lucy ran to him, tears running down her cheeks. Everything that had been building up in her all this time suddenly erupted. For the first time tonight, she finally found herself able to acknowledge just how scared and terrified she had been feeling. Looking into her father’s eyes, her self-assured veneer melted away, and she felt like a little girl again.

It’s all right now, Lucy thought. Daddy is here.

Her father’s face rippled, changed, and became something else.

In place of where her father had been only a few moments ago, one of the scantily clad vampyres was now gliding towards her. Too late, Lucy realised she had been duped and was too slow to do anything about it.

As Lucy turned to flee, other vampyres descended from the buildings and fire escapes around her, surrounding her. As one, they fell on her and began to rip and tear and feed, sharing the feast of her flesh and drinking deep of her blood.

Fortunately, Lucy’s torment was short lived.

Unfortunately, that was probably of little comfort to Lucy.

* * *

Tony silently made his way to the rear of the police station and opened the back door that led to the side street outside.

“Wait here in the alley,” he told his Mama, “and stay quiet!”

A few yards away was the garage that held his pride and joy, a Land Cruiser of the kind the polizia used in Rome. Tony had demanded it as a part payment for allowing the Russians to set up a strip joint in his town in the first place, a decision he was rapidly starting to regret.

Fumbling for his keys, Tony hurried across the yard as stealthily as he could manage. Opening the side door to the garage, Tony slipped inside and hit the controls that would open the big double doors at the front. Hopefully the both of them would be able to drive off into the sunrise before anyone realised they were gone.

The doors were slow, taking forever to retract, but thankfully made little sound.

Come on, come on, come on. Every second spent was another second wasted.

* * *

Mary quickly leapt along the back streets and side roads, headed swiftly towards her destination. As soon as Viktoryia had realized that Paul and his fellow travelers had fled the hotel, the vampyres pulled Mary and a couple of the other girls aside.

“With nowhere else to go, the cattle will most likely head towards the local polizia di stato. They will feel safe there. I want you to beat them there and cut them off. I’ll follow behind shortly and join you as soon as we clear the hotel. Do what you like with the others, but do not forget, I want the one named Paul kept alive!”

Mary owed Viktoryia, more than any of the others. The Head vampyre had saved her. Unfortunately, as she’d soon learnt, in undeath, just as in life, everything came with a price.

Mary had been dying when she first met Jamie from a wasting disease that was slowly eating her away from the inside. She had always meant to tell Jamie about it, but all through the early days of their relationship there had never been a right time. Then Jamie had told her all about Viktoryia.

The pair had challenged Viktoryia, driven her off, but Viktoriya had somehow sensed the illness, the cancer inside of her. A week later, she returned to Mary with a deal, promising her eternal life with no more need to fear death. Caught in a moment of weakness, at a time when her pain was at the highest it had been in months, Mary reluctantly agreed.

The price she’d agreed to pay had been to give Jamie up and leave him to Viktoryia. There had been no mention at that time of her needing blood to survive, nor that she would forever more be tormented by her desire to feed.

In the days, weeks, and months that followed, Mary’s increased blood lust had quickly consumed her. She lost herself, become more animal than human, driven by instinct and the need to survive. She’d learned to hunt, to feast, and to feed.

She was a predator.

In time, as she became more self-aware, Mary felt ashamed.

Even if she considered breaking her promise and returning to Jamie’s arms, she no longer thought she could face him. So, Mary shut off all emotion. She became like the rest of them, her sisters, her new family…

…until tonight, when she had seen Jamie again and watched him die in front of her.

Though she was no longer capable of feeling emotion, deep inside of her something had begun to stir.

After tonight, Mary decided she would give up.

She couldn’t do this anymore. This would be her last night of being a vampyre.

She would do Viktoryia’s bidding this one last time, then no more.

* * *

Pulling into a back alleyway and away from the street, Mary spotted an elderly lady standing in the shadows at the rear of the police station seemingly alone, an easy target.

Despite her earlier assurances to herself that she wouldn’t be feeding anymore, Mary found the familiar blood lust descending upon her like a cloud of sanguine mist. She had not fed in days, and her stomach was cramping from hunger pains.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Mary flew into the alleyway and pounced, pushing the old lady to the floor and licking at the woman’s throat with her tongue before sinking her teeth in deep.

Beautiful, coppery, fear-filled blood rushed into her mouth like a tsunami. Mary felt as though she were drowning but found she couldn’t stop herself until her appetite finally sated.

Excitement coursed through her as her victim’s blood spilled down her lips and over her face. Mary felt her nipples hardening and a dampness developing between her legs like she had never experienced before. Drinking blood was not just about sating hunger. It was also the way her kind experienced sexual pleasure.

There were many vampyres who even achieved climax during intense feedings, she had heard. Some of them often starved themselves specifically so that they could intensify their sexual pleasure as they fed. But that was not why I waited so long before feeding again, Mary tried to tell herself. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t. She wanted to believe that she had it in her to refrain for the right reasons.

From behind her came the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Mary came out of the trance-like state she had entered and was suddenly overcome with feelings of guilt, disgust, and shame at herself and her actions. She rose to her feet and turned towards the man standing at the end of the alleyway.

The old lady’s heart was still clutched in her fist from when she had ripped it from her body in her frenzy. Her victim’s blood still coated her lips and fell from her face in big, fat, red drops.

Kill me, Mary whispered, as much in his mind as with her mouth. Kill me, please. End it all. Just do it. Put me out of all this pain and misery…please.

She had been cured, the cancer was now gone. It had left her when her body had begun the transformation from human into vampyre, but the cost had been too great.

Mary just wanted someone to finally end it all…

The shotgun roared and Mary’s head exploded, spraying her brains all over the walls of the alleyway.

Tony Forelli fell to his knees.

He knelt before the corpses of his Mama and the thing that killed her. Tony Forelli tried to scream but found any sound simply refusing to come out. His body shook, and he knew that he was going into shock.

Behind him came the sound of frantic footsteps.

Tony turned, his shotgun pointed back the way he had come, convinced more of the vampyres were coming and determined to take some of those fucking bitches with him.

Two figures turned into the alley where he was crouched.

Tony raised the shotgun and aimed.

“Stop!” Paul shouted, raising his arms. “Don’t shoot. We’re human!”

“Who the fuck are you?” The former Police Chief of Derosso abruptly demanded.

Paul stood his ground defiantly. “Me? Who the fuck are you?”

* * *

Paul always had a keen sense of direction for as long as he could remember. Even placed in a town or a city he didn’t know, somehow he could always easily find his way around. It was like he had some kind of sixth fucking sense or something.

Paul had first discovered his talent when he had been about twelve or thirteen. He and some local kids had been playing down in Thetford Forest, when the others had all decided to play a cruel and nasty trick on him. Teaming together, the group had taken their little rich friend deep into the forest and abandoned him, thinking it might be funny if he managed to get lost.

All of them were shocked and surprised when Paul made it back out of the forest to their bikes before the rest of them. They knew nothing of his talents, and as Paul grew, he kept it that way.

Paul could not explain how it worked. It was like he had some kind of internal compass built inside of him or something.

A pity it never turned out to be a moral compass, Paul thought, then suddenly realized they were travelling a person light.

“Shit, where’s Lucy?” Paul asked. He had been so lost in his thoughts and concentrating on where it was they were going that he hadn’t even noticed she was gone.

Angela shrugged.

“Did you not even see where she went?” Paul asked her.

Angela shook her head.

“Fuck, we need to go back!” Paul said and turned to head back the way they’d come.

“No time,” Angela told him and, indeed, Paul could hear the fevered cries and squeals of the vampyres and their revenant pets closing in on their position.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“How much further?” Angela asked.

“Just around the next couple of corners,” Paul replied. “I think.”

“Then come on. She’s a big girl. She can manage on her own. Knowing Lucy, she’ll probably try to psychoanalyze them to death or something.” Angela grabbed him by the hand and started pulling him away from the sounds of pursuit.

They turned the next few corners in a hurry. To Paul, everything had become a blur as he began to lose his focus.

As they turned into a back street that he hoped would lead them round to the rear of the police station, a solitary figure in the alley stood and aimed a shotgun in their direction.

“Stop!” Paul shouted, raising his arms. “Don’t shoot. We’re human!”

* * *

“My name’s Paul, and this is Angela. We’re kind of…tourists. We came to Derosso on a …sight-seeing holiday.” For some reason Paul didn’t feel comfortable revealing he was on a singles holiday, especially after the way things had turned out tonight.

“Well you picked a fine time to visit,” Tony Forelli told them. “A really perfect fucking time. Welcome to Derosso, folks. Please enjoy your stay.” “You’re telling me,” Paul said in agreement with Tony’s sarcasm. “What the fuck is up with this town? It’s like 30 days of fucking night out there!”

His eyes flew to the two corpses lying in the alleyway.

One of them looked to be a vampyre from the sharp talons she was exhibiting. Paul thought he recognized the other from the bus, even with half her throat and her heart ripped out.

Suddenly he realized who she was.

“Oh crap,” Paul muttered.

The man, who still hadn’t identified himself to them but seemed to display a strong sense of authority, turned to look at what Paul was staring at. Paul thought he knew who he was too. If his suspicions were correct, then this was the Police Chief and the dead woman on the floor was the guy’s mother, who Paul had spoken rudely to on the bus.

Angela quickly sprang forward and savagely attacked the stranger with her cleaver. Her first blow opened up his stomach, causing his guts and intestines to fall to the floor. As he collapsed to the floor, his face frozen in shock, Angela swung her cleaver up in a back-hand and promptly broke his jaw.

The man, who Paul had quite rightly identified as the Chief of Police, was dying. Tony barely had a chance to register what was happening before Angela was upon him, savagely ripping at him and biting him and feasting on his flesh.

Paul turned away, sickened.

“What. The. Fuck. Angela?” Paul could not fully comprehend what it was he was actually seeing. Shit. Was Angela one of the monsters? Since when?

“Actually, Angela died some time ago,” Viktoryia said, stepping out of the shadows and into the alley.

As the vampyre on the floor before him raised her head, Paul could see she no longer looked anything like Angela. Her features had changed. Now she looked exactly like what she was, one of the stripper girls he’d seen at the club.

“Nina, here, is one of our strongest mimics. She can take on different forms, cloud human minds, for far much longer and more effectively than any of us. Actually, I’m quite jealous.

“She killed Angela and fed upon her a couple of hours ago and has been maintaining your friend’s identity ever since. It was her job to bring you to me if all my other attempts to snare you failed.”

Viktoryia stepped forward before Paul could move back, away from her. Her fist lashed out and smacked him full and hard in the face, almost breaking his jaw the way he’d attempted to do with her earlier. In agony, he fell to the floor.

Quickly Viktoryia was upon him, her hot breath breathing close in his ear. “That was for earlier, and this…this is for what we never had a chance to finish…”

With one hand, Viktoryia tilted his head back, granting her access to his throat. She began to slowly and sensually lick and caress it with her tongue. Paul could feel her lips brushing against him. Despite himself, he was getting incredibly aroused.

There were a thousand reasons why he should be afraid, but all he felt was turned on. Her other hand slipped down to his crotch and began to tease and play with what she found there. Despite the terror and adrenaline coursing through him, Paul was erect and bulging in his trousers.

As she unzipped his fly and pulled out his straining erection, Paul felt Viktoryia’s slick wetness between her own legs, slipping down and gripping him tight. Dipping her head, Viktoriya buried her fangs into his neck as she mounted him and rode him to climax.

Warm, hot blood filled her mouth as she drank deep. She kissed it back into Paul’s own mouth in a coppery and bloody caress.

Paul was lost in sexual pleasure like he’d never known before. Finally, he was hers, the bond and connection between the two of them made complete.

As Viktoryia continued to feed, bringing Paul to the very edges of death, around them Derosso continued to burn to the ground. Viktoryia didn’t care. She was done with this shitty little town.

It was time to move on.

* * *

Paul Clarkson shielded his eyes as he emerged from the terminal into bright light and prepared to board the plane that would finally take him home.

Fuck, he thought, that was one hell of a dream back there in the boarding lounge. It must have been inspired by the news reports on the screens in the airport about the town of Derosso burning to the ground in a forest fire. Shit, I’d only been there a few days before.

His memories of the last few days in Derosso were all hazy, a good sign that he had probably had a good time. His neck throbbed where, at some point, one of his many conquests must have bit him.

Fuck it, Paul had decided. The old man can keep his fucking money!

The other passengers sitting in first class were a strange bunch, Paul noted. Mostly smart, sexy business women, but all of them for some bizarre reason wearing crimson shades.

All of them, as one, made a point of looking up and staring at him as he climbed aboard the plane. Though in some ways it was kind of flattering, Paul also found himself feeling more than just a little bit unnerved by this.

Suddenly, Paul felt a wave of panic coursing through his body as he recognized some of the faces and the true memories of his recent holiday started to bleed through the fog currently inhabiting his brain.

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t a dream, he thought. He turned to flee, find a stewardess, and get the hell off of this flight before it could depart, but a cool hand on his shoulder stopped him from escaping.

Behind him stood Viktoriya, likewise clothed in sexy business attire, quite literally dressed to kill. Crimson tinted glasses shielded her eyes, just like all the other women in this section of the plane, and her lips shone with a lip gloss Paul thought he recognized as Blood Crave.

It was the same shade that Jenna had been wearing just before she died. Thoughts of all the others who had been at the resort with him sent a shiver coursing down his spine. Of all of them who had arrived there in Derosso, Paul was the only one who left alive.

He was no longer sure which of them had gotten the better deal…

Relax Sweetie, Paul heard, as much in his mind as with his ears. You’re mine now. Everything is fine. We belong together. Wherever you go, I‘ll find you, so you may as well just stay here with me.

Paul tried to scream but found the words, the very breath, stolen from his lips as Viktoryia took his head in both hands and kissed him. Hard. Her tongue slipping deep between his lips and into his warm, wet mouth.

Viktoriya was right. There was no escape for him anymore. The two of them were connected. He had become her human servant whether he liked it or not.

Wherever he went from now on, Viktoryia would follow…

Paul had never felt so trapped and helpless in his life.

Silently, he took a seat and sat down in the plane. A moment later, he felt his mind and thoughts start to cloud once more.

This was his life now. He supposed the sooner he accepted it, the happier he would be.

Epilogue

Kitten stepped out of the shower in her hotel room, toweled herself off, and sipped at a vodka and cranberry juice as she donned a soft, silky robe provided thoughtfully by the hotel.

It had been a rough week this week with modeling assignments up and down the whole of Rome, and she’d barely had a chance to have five minutes to herself. She was looking forward to heading back home and trying to relax for a few days before she had to start back at work back in the good ol’ US of A.

She hoped she might hear something from that guy she met on the plane this week on her flight over here (Barney…Harry…Barry. That was it.) but had heard nary a word. She hoped he was okay. She saw on the news that the resort he had been staying in burnt to the ground. So far, his name was not listed, that she had seen, on any of the reports of those who were found dead and identified.

A dull knock sounded at her door,

“I didn’t order room service,” Kitten began as she moved to open the bedroom door. It was the third time this week someone had tried to deliver things to her door. During her stay here, Kitten had become a minor celebrity. A strong hand pushed against it before she could reach it, breaking the chain, as a very disheveled and burnt smelling Barry burst into her room.

“Barry…Barry? I was just… just thinking of you. My God, are you all right?”

Barry stared at her with dull, flat eyes. Almost dead in fact. There was not the merest hint of recognition or sparkle in his gaze.

Barry smiled, and his grin revealed a mouth lined with teeth, way too many teeth. Sharp teeth.

Kitten tried to scream but it was already too late.

Barry pounced on her and quickly tore out her throat as he attempted to satisfy the insane hunger running through his veins.

Have to feed, he thought. I need flesh and blood. I neeed to feeeed…..

Barry buried his mouth deep within Kitten’s neck and began to rip and tear and chew. Kitten died in seconds.

But Barry was still hungry.

Leaving Kitten’s body where it lay on the carpet, Barry left her room and headed next door.

Abandoned to her fate, Kitten opened her eyes.

God, she suddenly felt hungry…

Chapter 14

Alternate Ending #4

Bury The Needle

Michael Fisher

Barry watched Paul go into the back with the stripper. He knew full well what happens in the champagne room. They (the staff) always said there was no sex in the champagne room, but Barry had gotten more ass in the VIP rooms in this kind of place than they would have the public believe.

He turned his attention back to the stage, taking notice of a tattooed blonde off to the side. He went to raise his beer to his lips only to remember that he was still holding that bimbo's cocktail. He looked at it closely. It wasn't the sparkling scarlet of a vodka and cranberry, nor was it the opaque red of a Bloody Mary. It had the thickness of watered-down syrup.

Fuck it, he thought, as he brought the straw in the drink to his lips. He figured that he had already spent enough in this dump. He might as well get a free drink. Drawing deeply on the straw, his mouth was filled with a flavor that reminded him of fruit juice from a tin can. The sweet, cloying taste had a background metallic flavor. Maybe the mixer came from a can. It was sweeter than he normally liked. He usually preferred the oaky flavor of a good scotch or the crisp burn of vodka. However, it was a free drink, and you don't turn away free booze.

As he took a couple more pulls on the straw, he noticed the blonde with the ink was looking right at him. A wicked grin split her face. He had seen that look many times before, usually before one of the many vapid groupies would try their best to rock his world.

Sometimes they succeeded.

He looked back at her and returned her smile, experience backing it up. Barry had done more sexually in his twenty-four years than most guys did their entire lives. The stripper's eyes narrowed, almost as if she could truly see what she had in her sights. A predator of a different sort, one of emotions.

An old man sitting in front of the stage was waving a twenty euro bill at her, hoping to get her attention. She simply waved it off, as she hopped down from the stage and crossed the room, a panther stalker its prey.

Barry's eyes never left the blonde's. Tracking her progress, his smile became wider. He continued sipping the peculiar drink. His taste buds adjusted to the sickly-sweet flavor, and he was now enjoying the taste. The last dregs of the drink slurped up as the dancer stopped in front of Barry. The straw fell from his mouth as he realized that he may have finally met his match, a sexual being to outshine his own bright light.

She reached out her right hand, her long thin fingers gently grasping the glass, and she set it on the table. All the while, the fingers of her left hand stroked his cheek and neck, teasing that sensitive spot just below his ear. He nuzzled his cheek against her hand. Her skin was so warm and inviting, pulling him toward her. His eyes never left hers until the feeling became so strong, he couldn't help but close his eyes to block out the rest of the club.

Once his eyes closed, Anya's smile changed, shifting from a seductive grin to a hungry slash, her lips parting to show her wicked teeth, sharper than any normal human should possess. She knew she was to follow the usual plan. Take the tourists who decided that wandering into Feral Hearts was a great idea back to the house where they would be kept and harvested.

Barry's eyes flashed open as he felt the stripper straddle his lap. He hadn't paid for a lap dance, so he leaned back to enjoy the ride.

"So, can I interest you in more?" Her thick Russian accent, with a touch of a lisp, made it so much sexier. Barry figured that this dance was kind of like the taste that a drug dealer gives away, to hook future addicts. Obviously, it worked, judging by all the locals taking up the seats.

She ground her pelvis against Barry's groin, the heat of her body causing a reaction in his. He was stiffening under the attention she was giving him.

“Would you like…more?”

“Hell yeah, I want more. Is there a VIP room we can use?”

She stood and, taking Barry by the hand, led him down a dim hallway, lit by scarlet lights which barely allowed him to see where he was being led. He absentmindedly stroked himself through his trousers as they walked. He wanted to be ready when they got there.

Anya twisted the old brass knob, allowing entry to a small room outfitted with a small wooden table and chair, as well as a red sofa. It wasn’t for watching TV (he knew that from experience).

Anya pushed Barry down into the simple, straight-backed chair and resumed her attention. He smiled widely as she continued grinding against his pulsating bulge. Anya reached down between their bodies and unzipped Barry's fly, allowing his organ more room to be teased.

Barry shivered at the touch of her warm hand as she freed him from the fabric prison. She slid forward on his lap, the softness of her skin and the thong she wore tantalizing him further. He felt the cleft of her lips parting under the fabric, stroking his throbbing erection between them. The heat of her body was driving him crazy, making him throw what little self-control he currently had out the window.

So close, Barry thought. All it takes is for her thong to slip to the side, just enough, and I'll be fucking her right here, like so many of the others. This one is different. God, her pussy is so hot, the hottest I have ever felt.

Barry started returning the attention, thrusting himself against her, feeling the wetness soaking through the cloth, sliding against his skin. It drove Barry even wilder, making him thrust away with abandon. He could feel the cloth moving…

Barry was back in the main seating area by the stages with Anya in his lap, her tongue in his ear. He glanced back to see Paul crossing the room with the dancer from earlier.

“Barry, I’m going to go with—”

“I know. I’m coming too.”

“This will be a night neither one of you will forget,” said Viktoriya, flashing a sultry grin.

Barry was certain she was right.

* * *

At the house on the edge of town, Barry and Anya didn’t waste any time with small talk. Anya began disrobing as they walked through the front door. Viktoriya and Paul strolled leisurely behind them, her hand clenched on Paul’s ass and her mouth whispering lurid promises into his ear.

Inside, Anya grabbed Barry tightly in her arms, and they drifted up the stairs, making out furiously as she undid his pants. Upstairs, she flung open a door and pushed Barry into a bedroom already lit with candles. Anya shoved him into a chair and mounted him as the door slowly closed behind them. Barry was excited to pick up where their lap dance had left off at the club.

She started nuzzling her face against his neck, her tongue flicking against his skin, teeth nibbling. As she leaned forward, he felt his penis slip through the fly in his boxer briefs and the tip shift into her wetness. Without a thought, he slammed his body into hers, sinking himself into that hot wetness that he so desired.

As he drove himself into Anya, she lost control as well.

With a gasp as Barry hit the spot, she sank her teeth into the side of his neck, preparing to take the pleasure that outshone the heat in her crotch. Barry bucked against the sensation, inadvertently slamming himself harder into Anya.

This was Anya's favorite, hot rough sex combined with feeding. As she felt his blood hit her tongue, she knew she would come soon. She continued bucking on Barry's cock, worrying his neck like a hound.

The sudden agony of the razor sharp teeth ripping away at the side of his neck snapped Barry out of his ecstasy. He went limp, slipping from inside Anya.

He grabbed her under her arms and pushed the ravaging bitch away. Although his muscles rippled with the strain, she barely moved. Her lithe frame belied the massive strength her limbs possessed. She tightened her arms and legs around Barry, burying her face in his neck again.

He tried to break free, straining against the inhuman power. Realizing this tactic wasn't working, he tried a different idea. Barry planted his feet against the floor and pushed with all his might.

The chair tipped backward, taking its occupants off balance. As the chair went past the apex of its track, the legs, not made for the weight of the two, buckled and broke free, spilling the pair to the floor.

Anya released her grasp on her prey, as the momentum brought their combined weight down onto her arms and legs. She sprung to her feet, a snarl escaping her lips as she saw her dinner recovering its own feet.

Barry snatched up a piece of the wooden chair, wielding it like a club, as he circled away from Anya. He looked at the bitch that bit him like a dog. She had a look on her face, as if this was some kind of bad joke.

The feral blonde was beyond displeased that her meal was fighting back. She opened her mouth wide, so much wider than what should’ve been anatomically possible, reminiscent of a snake unhinging its jaw.

Her fangs descended.

These were not your classic pointy canines, though. Semi-circular ridges of serrated bone dropped from sockets in front of her normal teeth. The effect was not unlike the mouth of a shark. The sight was enough to turn Barry's blood to ice.

The blonde beast flung herself at him. Rather than trying to dodge, he swung the chair leg like a bat, swinging for the wall. The wood struck the stripper in the face.

Barry felt a cracking sound run through his hands, unsure if it was the wood or her skull. There was also a burning in his chest as her sharp nails ripped through his white cotton shirt, raking the skin of his chest. They sliced open the face of the demon etched in his skin, drawing more blood.

Anya fell to the floor with a howl, shocked that this mortal could cause so much pain. These locals didn't even think to fight back, let alone do it with such force. She whipped her head, glaring at Barry from a kneeling position. Barry drew back with his improvised club and swung underhanded with all his might. Anya's left hand shot out, catching the end of the wood. The fracture in the wood that started on the impact with her face doubled as it struck her hand. Barry lost his balance, falling forward toward the source of the burning in his neck and the wetness on his shoulder.

The splintered remnants of his club were driven by two hundred pounds of muscle into Anya's chest. Just as he had forcibly driven his member deep into Anya's body earlier, he now drove this hard shaft deep into her black heart as he turned out her lights.

A dying shriek escaped her serrated mouth before she became still.

Realizing what he had done, Barry panicked. He pulled up his pants and ran out the door, but hearing the shouts of Viktoriya ahead, he ducked into the next room.

With a burst of luck, it was empty. He closed the door as quickly and quietly as he could. He stood with his ear to the door, waiting for the right moment.

He heard Viktoriya calling for Anya as she passed by. She sounded pissed. He most definitely did not want to be here when she found the mess he’d left.

When he heard the door of the room containing the dead thing slam open, Barry opened the door and bolted for the front. He saw Paul peeking in the hallway, holding his pants up by his waist and looking confused.

He grabbed Paul by the arm as he passed, taking note that Paul’s shirt was as damaged as his own. Paul snapped out of his stupor with the force of Barry snatching his arm.

They hit the stairs as horrible shrieks and the shrill cries of demons filled the house. The pair passed through the front door and disappeared into the pitch black of night.

* * *

Viktoriya ran to Anya's side, pulling her upward, hoping beyond hope that she had survived the stupid American's attack. Anya's body, limp and cold in her arms, was beyond recovery. Viktoriya even tried to feed her some of her own potent blood, shredding the skin of her own wrist with her wicked teeth. However, there was no response from Anya's still corpse.

Viktoriya dropped the body to the floor and spun around, desperately looking for retribution, but there was no one in sight. She left the body behind her as she flew to the front of the house, looking for the bald drunk and his friend. They were nowhere in sight.

The front door was ajar.

She knew where they would go. Paul had told her everything she needed.

* * *

They ran as hard as they could, for as long as they could. About five blocks over and two down, they stopped to catch their breath. Barry was also starting to get lightheaded, a combination of blood loss and the adrenalin wearing off. His shredded shirt was soaked with his blood, pulling away with a sickly sensation with every sudden movement.

"Stay here." Paul pushed Barry into the shadows of an alley. "I need to find out how to get back to the hotel." Barry staggered back against the rough brick, his hand pressed to his neck, hoping to staunch the blood flow.

Paul glanced back over his shoulder at Barry as he headed off. Amusingly, the blood that stained Barry's ruined shirt, as well as the black and white tattoo under it, helped camouflage him in the shadows.

Paul looked for an open shop, but was disappointed to find there were none open at this late hour. Once he got a block away, he found an older man, obviously in his cups, staggering down the street. He slowed his stride as he neared the drunk.

"Mi scusi. Speak English?"

The old man looked at Paul through bleary eyes, as if trying to place his face. He shook his head, understanding enough to know he didn't understand after all.

"Derosso Grande?" Paul waved his arms, trying to get the codger to get his meaning.

"Derosso Grande? Due," as he pointed in the direction Paul had come from, "tre," toward the right.

"Two up and three over?"

The old man nodded. "Due e tre."

Paul took the old man's hand in his own, feeling how thin and creased it was, and shook it firmly. He turned back in the direction he had left Barry and darted down the street.

The old man watched him leave and then thought to himself, Poor American. Doesn't he know the Derosso Grande is run by vampires?

* * *

Viktoriya stalked out the front door of the house. She sniffed the air. The scent of blood was strong. She glanced back at her children, gathering behind her with vengeance in their eyes.

Viktoriya growled. "These two humans killed Anya. Spread out. Find them. They’re heading back to the Derosso Grande.”

The undead whores flew out into the night with cries of bloodlust, their eyes glowing in the darkness, searching for their prey. They scented out the splashes of the bald American's blood on the pavement. There was quite a bit of it.

If only the human hadn't gotten that lucky blow in on Anya, she would have been feasting on him right now while the local men all but begged for the same treatment.

Viktoriya reached down, touching a spot of crimson on a stone, and brought the precious fluid up to her nose. She inhaled deeply, cherishing the scent before licking her finger clean.

She looked up the street ahead of her, knowing full well where he would be going. Any other night, stalking her prey would be a fine activity. On this night, she just wasn't in the mood.

* * *

Paul found Barry slumped on the ground, leaning against the wall behind a trash bin. He was afraid that it was already too late, but he steeled himself to learn for sure. He reached out and shook Barry.

A muscular arm swatted his hand away. Even weakened as Barry was, that smack hurt. Paul underestimated the power his roommate possessed. Now he understood how Barry was able to kill that thing so easily. He thought about it for a second and realized the proper name for the blonde was vampire. Not the romantic sparkly things that were all the rage these days. Sure, they were seductive, but those were the teeth of a ravenous predator, a creature whose only reason for existence was to consume.

"Come on. We need to get back to the hotel. I think it will be safer there."

Barry looked up at him, his left hand still firmly pressed against the gash in the side of his neck. He was lucky beyond belief that when the whore bit him, she didn't hit any major blood vessels. He would have already bled out, long before reaching this nice spot in the shadows. As it was, his normally olive complexion was now washing out to an ashen tone.

Paul grasped Barry's right hand and helped him to his feet. He looked at the reality star, so far from his star-strewn walks in New York, reduced to a pale bleeding mess on the streets of Italy.

"I found out where the hotel is. It's just another block up and three that way." He pointed off to his right. "Let's get inside now!"

Barry nodded his agreement, wincing as the action opened the scabbing on his neck, allowing a trickle of blood to seep past his fingers.

The two continued on the relatively short path to the Derosso Grande, feeling as if they were running a marathon. In reality, they were running a much harder and damaging race than any marathon.

They were running for their very lives.

* * *

Viktoriya met up with a local girl they had turned when they arrived in Derosso. She was a stunning brunette with some of the longest legs seen off a runway. Her white blouse was opened quite low, showing off her ample assets pouring over the cups of a black lace bra.

"Cristina, you know where the Americans are, do you not?" She needed to make certain her children were as observant as she.

"They are staying at the Derosso Grande. I watched them arrive earlier this evening."

"Good, because we are taking them tonight. All of them. Well, all but one, perhaps. I have not decided that one's fate just yet. The rest are on their way now. We will join up with them and attack as one."

"Why so soon? I thought we were going to let them settle into the ways of the village for a few days first." Cristina looked a bit perplexed by Viktoriya's decision.

"The one with the tattoos, the muscular one, killed Anya like a beast in the forest. She was only trying to gain some sustenance, and he slaughtered her. That is why they all must die!"

Cristina's eyes went wide in shock at the news her sister was dead, brutally murdered by this human. Then, they narrowed in rage as she quietly swore to herself that none would survive the night.

The two women, luscious in appearance, vicious in action, stalked up the cobblestone lane, closing the distance to the hotel. They would await their sisters’ arrival before approaching the hotel directly.

* * *

Paul half-carried Barry as they neared the hotel, the once powerful man weak from blood loss. Both men were looking rapidly about them, hoping that Viktoriya wouldn’t find them.

The hotel's doorman saw them approaching and, thinking they were drunk, held the door open. When they entered the circle of light cast by the overhead bulbs, he saw their blood-soaked clothing and his eyes went wide. He knew this was going to be bad. Once they were through and on their way to the rooms, Carlo left his post during his shift for the first time since he started the job fifteen years ago.

The walk down the long hallway seemed interminable. Paul leaned Barry in the corner of a doorway every so often to catch his breath. As they made progress down the long passageway, Barry became more riled up, as if the proximity to their room was giving him clarity. By the time they reached their door, Barry was standing up without assistance, still holding pressure on his neck, pacing about the hallway.

"Paul, we need to get into the room and lock it up!"

"I get it! I saw them too, you know."

Paul pulled the room key out and, after a few failed attempts, opened the door to their room and pushed Barry in, slamming the door behind them.

"What the fuck did you do? What did you do?"

"I had to! She turned into a fucking monster! A fucking she-bitch monster!"

"Now they’ll be looking for us, you asshole!"

"Hey, man, she fucking bit me! What was I supposed to do?"

They heard a slamming sound from the hallway, quickly followed by a pounding on the door. Both heads whipped around, staring at the door, praying it wasn't one of those things.

"Who the fuck is that?"

“It’s Lucy. You guys are waking the dead with your racket!”

Paul rushed to open the door and saw the attractive woman before him, looking more than a little irate. She took in the sight before her, noting his ripped shirt and how it was soaked through with sweat. It didn't matter to him though. He had more to worry about than what some bitch on a trip thought of him.

“Why did you say that?”

“What?”

“Why did you say we woke the dead? Why did you fucking say that?”

“Oh my God, are you on something?”

“Close that fucking door! You’ll let them in!” Barry shouted at Lucy and Paul.

“Let who in?”

Paul reached out, glanced up and down the hallway, and dragged her into the room. He started to slam the door but noticed Jenna standing outside their door as well.

“What is this, a fucking convention? Get in here!”

Jenna followed them into the room as Paul slammed the door behind her, looking through the peephole.

“What are you guys—” Lucy was obviously confused by what was going on. Paul was hoping they wouldn't have to explain, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't get an option.

Jenna clutched her arm with a shaking hand.

“Lucy, look at Barry.”

They saw the state Barry was in, his shirt covered in brownish coagulated blood, shredded in the front. He still kept his hand on his neck, just in case the bleeding hadn't stopped completely.

“Barry, are you all right?”

“Do I fucking look all right to you, Lucy?”

“What happened?”

Paul shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself. "That strip club, Feral Hearts…we had a few drinks, I had a few lap dances, and next thing we know, we’re back at this house on the edge of town and this blonde bitch was gnawing on Barry's neck like a fucking vampire.”

“What do you mean vampire?”

“I’m telling you, Lucy, they were fucking vampires! I killed the bitch that bit me.” Barry was getting worked up even more by the conversation. He started pacing back and forth frantically.

Lucy put her hands on her hips. “Paul, did he take anything while you were at that club?”

He looked at Lucy, unable to believe she had suggested it. “If he did, then I took the same drug myself.”

Lucy was incredulous. “So you murdered a stripper? We have to go to the police.”

“No! No police!” Barry charged across the room and got in Lucy's face. “They’ll throw me in jail, and then they’ll definitely get me!” His neck was starting to leak blood again as his pressure went through the roof.

Paul approached the pair, shaking his head. “You heard Stefania. The police are in on the whole thing anyway. We’re fucked.”

Jenna noticed movement on the street across the large expanse of grass outside the window as shapes gathered on the rough stone surface.

“Uh, Lucy, I think you should see this.”

“See what?”

“Just come over here.” Jenna's face was ashen with the realization of what was happening.

“They’re here? They’re fucking here? They found us! We’re fucked!” Barry was losing any semblance of control, screaming, waving his arms around.

Lucy ignored this, walking around him, and took in the sight outside the window.

The small plaza in front of the hotel was full with a large group of women, their lithe bodies barely covered with skimpy garments. They showed more skin, pale skin, than would be acceptable on the streets of America. All of their eyes were glowing a sinister crimson, the color of blood made light.

Behind the women was a sight almost as scary as a gathering of vampires. Surrounding the women on the edges of the plaza, a veritable army of shapes that appeared to be men gathered. Their eyes were also glowing in the darkness while they capered about, howling at the moon like the madmen they were.

Barry glanced over the shoulders of the girls and saw what was awaiting them. "We are so fucked! We are beyond fucked!"

He started trying to barricade the door with the limited furnishings in the room, but his wound limited his efforts. He had to stop and sit, resuming pressure on his neck. He only prayed he wouldn't pass out. He was already an easy target. Unconscious, he would be dead meat.

"Come on, we can't let them get in!"

"Shhhh! I'm trying to hear what they are saying. Wait a second! Who is that?" Paul stopped trying to shush Barry as his eyes caught sight of a lone figure striding from the main entrance out to Viktoriya. She stood tall and proud, grinning wickedly as the figure approached her.

“What the fuck?”

“Look, is that…Jamie?” Jenna couldn't believe her eyes.

“It is!” Lucy, all but screamed at the shock of one of their group getting involved in this madness.

“What’s he doing?”

Jamie walked right up to the statuesque woman and looked into her eyes. They could see her lips moving and his head nodding in response, but no sound travelled across the lawn to their window.

Jamie turned to point back to the hotel in the general direction of the rooms, and they finally got their first look at his face. He had an odd expression, almost one of relief, but it was like a mask hiding an emptiness, as if he were not entirely in his own head.

Lucy and Paul dropped out of sight as their former friend was apparently selling them out. Jenna remained standing, her head and index finger bobbing. Lucy realized what she was doing as she watched Jenna from the carpet. She was actually counting all those things in the courtyard.

"That is bad. Very, very bad. Twenty-four vampires and ninety-six...things. One hundred and twenty. That is a very even number, and there are only four of us. Another even number. Put together that is one hundred and twenty four. Another even number."

"Will you just shut the fuck up already?" Barry was glaring at Jenna from his spot on the green carpet. The blood from his neck looked black as it soaked into the nap of the rug.

"I have a better suggestion. Get down!" Paul hissed at Jenna, eliciting a scowl from her.

"Yeah, get down and shut up!" Lucy joined in, finally losing patience.

The realization that the numbers she had avoided for so long were come to life and were likely out to kill them all froze Jenna in place as she stared out the window at the amassed force. They were coming, all one hundred and twenty of them.

What she did not expect to see was the fiery eyes of the leader staring deep into her soul. With a wash of power, the numbers no longer mattered. She knew what she would do when the time came. She would do just as she had been told.

Jenna turned from the window and sat on the nearest bed and stared off into space.

"It's about fucking time she shut up!" Barry was obviously relieved at her actions. He was, however, unaware, as the rest were, of what was to come from her silence.

"We need weapons of some sort." Paul started rapidly looking around the room, his eyes alighting up the lone wooden chair in the corner, sitting at a small desk. "If they are vampires, a wooden stake is the trick. It's what Barry used to kill that bleached blonde bitch at the club."

Paul knocked the chair onto its back and stomped on the cross supports, allowing the legs to be snapped off.  He tossed one leg to each of his companions and moved to do the same to the desk. Barry and Lucy caught theirs, while Jenna's club landed on the bed next to her, unnoticed.

"Hey ladies! Why don't you run over to your room and do the same before they get a chance to come in here." Lucy looked a bit ruffled at being addressed in such a manner, but nodded in agreement.

"Come on, Jenna. You heard the guy. Let's go get some weapons from our room." Jenna didn’t budge until Lucy pulled on her arm. She quietly arose from the soft bed and followed Lucy out the door and across the hall.

Paul continued kicking at the desk, trying to gain another weapon, knowing it wouldn't be enough.

* * *

The sounds of furniture being broken echoed down the halls as Jamie led his tormentor to her goal. All the doors in the hall were closed but the two that were his destination.

Viktoriya called over her shoulder to her followers, "My children, clear out the hotel. All must die, but leave the bald one to me. I have a present for him."

"Paul, I can't get them to break, and Jenna is no help!" Lucy cried.

"Be right there!" Paul started out into the hall, glancing to his left, and saw them. The traitor and his mistress.

"They're coming!" He slammed the door to his room, knowing it would lock automatically. He practically dove into the girls' room, kicking the door closed with his feet. He reached up to slam the deadbolt home.

"I guess they are in there." Jamie shrugged as he pointed at the door Paul had disappeared through. The sooner this was over, the sooner he would be free.

Jamie strolled, almost casually, up to the door and gently knocked.

"Fuck off, you undead cunt!"

Jamie twitched a bit. Although, he had been hurt so much, he had always hated that word. Then again, it did seem to be an accurate name for Viktoriya. She was the second most horrible thing that had ever happened to him.

"I'm sorry, Paul. I really didn't want to do this, but I have dealt with her for what feels like an eternity. It needs to be over. She destroyed everything that I held dear. I am pretty sure now that she killed Nico, the only person I truly loved. "

Viktoriya gave him a nasty smile with a single nod, knowing how much it hurt him.

She calmly approached the door and spoke in a voice that dripped with honey. "You don't need to worry, Paul. I will still take you to the house and fuck you longer and harder than you have ever had. I just want your friend, Barry. He has to pay for what he did to Anya."

The persuasive tone of her voice created a stirring in the loins of everyone in the immediate area. The men felt themselves grow hard while the women started getting wet. The feeling was disconcerting.

"We don't have Barry. He bled out. She must have gotten an artery or something." Paul realized he was unconsciously stroking himself through his slacks. He glanced around and was surprised at what he found.

Lucy was sprawled on the bed nearest the window. She had hiked her skirt up around her waist and her left hand pulled aside her lace panties. She was stroking herself with her right hand, not caring that she was on display.

The sight did not help Paul stay on task.

"Come on. Open the door." Jamie's voice took on a pleading tone. "Jenna? Are you in there? We had something, didn't we? I know you felt it. Please let me in so we can be together."

Jenna arose from the bed near the door and stepped over Paul, his eyes fixated on the show Lucy was putting on. The power of these vampires to stir desire in mortals, even in the worst times, was unmatched.

"Jenna...don't..." Lucy moaned from the bed, unable to control herself, her body seemingly on autopilot, driving herself toward climax.

Paul made a grab for Jenna's ankle, hoping to stop her but the friction of the rug against his groin was too much. The intense arousal Viktoriya had brought up in them made the most simple contact extremely pleasurable. Paul's body was racked with spasms as he erupted in his boxers, his hand missing Jenna's leg completely.

"I'm here for you, Jamie." Jenna's voice sounded far away, yet so full of need. She twisted the deadbolt and the knob together.

Jamie rushed into the room, taking Jenna into his arms, and kissed her passionately. The fugue she had been in fell, and the pheromones Viktoriya was emitting consumed them both. They struggled to pull off each other's clothing when they both went stiff, fingers losing their direction. Their mouths went wide in an expression of shock.

The slim hand with long, slender fingers protruded from Jenna's back, dripping in their scarlet blood which spattered the floor. Viktoriya smiled over Jamie’s shoulder, a fire in her eyes. With a sickening slurping sound, she pulled her arm back through the lovers. As she finished pulling free from Jamie’s back, their bodies collapsed to the floor.

"I thought...you said...you would...free me." Jamie's words were moist with blood.

"You are free. Free from all the troubles of life that have tormented you. So is your lady friend. No longer will she be plagued with numbers. I saw that when I took her mind earlier. Now, you both are free. Together."

The vampire turned and took in the rest of the small room. It was impossible to miss the show Lucy was giving on the bed.

Viktoriya simply smiled. "I think we can use one so...enthusiastic at the club." She sauntered over to the wanton girl. She kneeled on the carpet and glanced back to the bodies on the floor. Just past the two corpses she had just made, Paul laid, his eyes fixated on the scene before him. He was unable to think for himself, let alone move.

She gave him that wicked smile he had seen earlier and turned back to Lucy. Viktoriya leaned over the flesh offered to her and pleasured Lucy orally. As Lucy continued to writhe under her, Viktoriya licked the hollow on the inside of Lucy's thigh, finding the pulse point. Lucy let out a sound that was a moan of pleasure fused with a gasp of fear.

With a quick flick, Viktoriya dropped her fangs, that row of teeth so similar to that of a piranha, and bit into the soft pale skin, rejoicing in the flow of the warm blood over her tongue. Lucy’s gasp turned into a cry.

Once Viktoriya had drunk enough to sate her desire, she stood. "Tomorrow night, you will be mine. Know this and that I expect you to go to the club once you have risen and fed."

At this command, Lucy went limp. The duvet was soaked through in her juices and blood.

Viktoriya stood and crossed the room to the heap that was Paul and looked down on him. He was a pitiful mess.

He looked up at her, eyes begging for mercy from a monster he knew possessed none. She knelt down next him, pulling his limp form into her arms. She cradled him like a lover as she gazed deeply into his eyes. "Do you remember my promise to you, about how I would fuck you?"

Paul let out a long, deep sigh as he nodded. She could see that under the fear, he still had a strong desire for the pleasures she had promised so recently.

She grinned, knowing the pleasures that were to come would only be hers. In a flash her rows of razor teeth descended and in one quick motion ripped Paul's throat out. His blood sprayed across her face, crimson contrasting starkly with her ivory complexion. His scream burbled out amid the gout of blood.

"You are well and truly fucked now."

She watched the light fade from his eyes. Just to be certain she grasped the sides of his head, and like a child with a spent dandelion, ripped his head from his shoulders.

She glanced back at Lucy's body, sprawled across the bed, her chest barely moving with her shallow breaths. She took one last gaze at her blood-soaked crotch spread wide and knew she made the right decision. This girl would make a wonderful replacement for poor fallen Anya.

Ah, yes, Anya. I still need to take care of that loose end, she thought. She could smell his blood, so he must be close by.

Viktoriya sauntered out into the hallway and froze. She held her head high, eyes closed, and sniffed the air.

He was close. His scent permeated the still air. She knew exactly what she needed to do. These games are so easy. She chuckled at the thought. Come to me, my pet.

* * *

Barry heard the noises coming from across the hall. He knew she was coming for him. He could feel it, deep down. He also felt the lingering effects of the arousal she had summoned from the others throbbing with his pulse. He could feel his pulse running strong, as he held the wound on his neck.

It had been under two hours since the ravening thing that looked and felt like a sexy woman had torn at his throat, ripping away all pretenses of tough he carried. Hell, less than twenty-four hours ago, Barry had been safe in his roomy apartment in Williamsburg, living the life that so many envied.

Now, he was huddled in fear of his life in a tiny room in a small village in Italy. In fact, he wondered why he was here. This was supposed to be a luxury resort, not a singles getaway. Carlos had assured him that everything would be taken care of, that all his troubles would be gone. He had just wanted to relax, drink enough to kill a fish, score some Italian tail, and maybe, just maybe, that ginger vixen from the plane would have come from Rome.

In a flash, it came to him. Perhaps, in another situation, it would’ve been considered paranoid. Could that vampire bitch's reach extend all the way to New York? Maybe she got to Carlos, convincing him to arrange this whole thing.

That little fucker set me up! Barry's anger fueled his actions. Refusing to continue being a victim, he stood, taking up the broken chair leg in his right hand. When I get back to New York, he is fucking dead. Fuck firing him. He's dead.

He paced the room for a few minutes, steeling himself for what he knew he needed to do. He had already killed one of those hell bitches tonight. He could do it again. Again and again, if need be.

A gentle knock at the door interrupted his pacing. He whipped around, staring at the oaken door. He really wished he had a gun, something more than a chair leg. He said nothing, simply waiting.

The knocking began again, soft but insistent.

"Barry, are you there? The man at the desk said this is your room."

He knew that voice, dipped in honey and lust. It was the sound of fantasy in flesh. It was Kitten. He guessed that her show had been canceled and she took him up on the invitation to come to Derosso.

Barry opened the door and took in the glorious sight he remembered from the plane. The large breasts and full hips filled out a new dress. It was similar to the one she wore in first class, this one a deep red. The sight of her luscious face erased any concerns he had.

She walked into the room and took Barry into her arms. He wrapped his muscular arms around her torso, hands sliding low to cup her round ass. As he slid his hands over the wonder that it was, her dress slid up so he felt skin on skin. She felt him stiffen in between their bodies.

She pulled away and took a step back. Barry looked disappointed to lose his grasp. She stood tall and shook her mane of hair, as red as the dress, about her head. He was mesmerized by the way her tits bounced with each shake.

Kitten saw him staring. "You like what you see?"

Barry nodded numbly. In response, Kitten unzipped that crimson sheath, letting it fall to the floor. She stood before him in all her bounteous glory, bare as could be. He took in the sight of her alabaster skin, shining in the light. He could find no flaw whatsoever. It was the best money can buy.

"I haven't been able to get the thought of this moment out of my mind, ever since you had your way with my body on board the flight." She ran her hands over her toned figure, setting off the most wonderful jiggles. "Now, this isn't fair. I'm all ready to go, and there you are in those dirty clothes."

She reached out and unbuckled his belt, drawing it from the wool loops in one deft motion. She folded it in half and playfully slapped it on her ass. At the sting of the leather, she let out a bit of a whimper.

Barry finished unbuttoning his trousers, allowing them to drop to the floor. Kitten took the elastic band of his boxer briefs in her hands and yanked them down as well. His throbbing erection leapt forth. She smiled as she ran her hand along the underside, feeling its pulse in her palm.

"Lay back and let me do what I do best." She ran her tongue over her plumped lips. Barry practically fell backward onto the small bed. His pants were still around his ankles, unable to get past the now-scuffed oxfords.

As he lay down, his manhood pointed toward his head, bobbing with the beat of his heart. Kitten took in this sight and licked her lips again as she kneeled down between his legs. She flicked her tongue out, just teasing the tip. Barry couldn’t contain his moan of pleasure.

She easily took him deep into her throat. God, she was talented at reducing him to so much mush. Then, in a seemingly impossible sucking action, she went deeper, pulling his balls into her mouth, one after the other. She continued sucking when he felt an odd prickling sensation encompassing the base of his cock.

In a fraction of a second, the serrated teeth extended, allowing Kitten to rip his genitalia off in one swift tearing motion, her mouth like a buzz saw. She rejoiced in the moment as his femoral arteries sprayed across her face. As her jaw opened even wider, she swallowed his once proud organ in one quick gulp.

The piercing shriek that came from Barry's throat was as inhuman as the creature that had just emasculated him. The siren that had brought this damnation to Barry strutted around the small bed, stopping beside his head.

She leaned over, her massive breasts hanging above his face, and whispered to him.

"Carlos did his job so well. He said you were slime, and he was right. I knew if you were the reprehensible person he claimed, you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off of this." She cupped her blood-spattered breasts, bringing them near his face. "And you couldn't resist. It’s a shame that you didn’t know the real me.” She let the illusion fall. The face of a different woman, still ginger but far from the goddess he knew on the plane, shimmered into focus.

“I will admit—you were packing a nice piece of meat. Were."

"Kitten..." Barry hardly choked the one word past his pain.

"No, it's really Kitien, but close enough. Kitten was a role we hired that woman to play. Now where was I? Ah, yes, you had to go and kill Anya. That sealed your fate, the fates of your friends as well.

“Just wait until we get back to New York. This is going to be a wonderful piece of news. 'Reality star castrated and murdered in Rome. Rejected fan sought for questioning.' You didn't think we were leaving you here, did you? TMZ is going to blow up with this. It will make the celebrity overdoses look so mundane."

He struggled to keep his eyes on her. His screams dropped in volume as his life sprayed across the room.

She kissed her forefinger and then pressed it to Barry’s lips. "From my lips to yours. Goodbye, Barry. You won't be missed."

Barry's body went limp, as the blood flow dropped to a weak trickle.

"Such a waste." As she spoke, Kitten wasn't actually sure if she meant the blood or the body. She would have preferred to keep him as her slave, but when Viktoriya spoke, you did not question her. You simply acted.

She leaned over and licked a long trail of thickening blood from Barry's cooling corpse with a demonic smile.

* * *

Angela was settling in for the night. She had just pulled her shoes off when she heard the commotion down the hall. The others had gone off to their rooms while Angela enjoyed her privacy.

There were blood-curdling screams down the hallway.

She ran to the door and looked through the peephole. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief at what she saw and looked again.

There were scantily-clad vampires climbing the walls of the hallway, assaulting curious guests, blood dripping from their jowls.

A consummate survivor, Angela quickly looked about the room for some method of defense. The first thing was to try to secure the door. She twisted the knob, sliding the deadbolt into its slot in the frame. Then, taking cues from films, she slid the wooden chair under the doorknob and kicked the legs, wedging them in place deep into the carpet.

She didn't see any readily available weapons. Getting on her hands and knees, she looked under her bed and had an idea. She pulled the mattress off the bed, and then the box spring. Underneath, rather than the more common steel bed frame, she saw wooden slats supporting the foundation.

She picked up a slat and realized that, while on the short side, it would work as a club in a pinch. Even better, she had another nine of them on this bed alone. She pulled all the slats from the frame and stacked them on the desk. With a few tugs on the other bed, she quickly disassembled her roommate's bed as well.

Placing the last of the slats on the desk, she picked up the fifth of Limoncello she had picked up on their tour of the village. She cracked the bottle and took a deep swig of the pale yellow liquid. She had always heard about how wonderful it was. As the sweet liquor burned her throat, she realized how stupid those people were.

Give me a good Caribbean rum any day.

Another idea hit her. She picked up one of the sheets from the disassembled beds. It took a bit more work than they did in the movies, but she tore a long strip from the bedding and stuffed it down the neck of the clear bottle.

These were the bitches from that club. She knew it. If they were Russian, like Stefania said, they should know what a Molotov was.

She pulled a book of matches from the front pocket of her purse, a souvenir book from the café earlier, and set them on the desk by the firebomb. She smiled because she wasn't going to take them at first, but Stefania had insisted. She had said something about how you never know when you might need fire.

As she settled back, waiting for trouble to come to her, she looked out her window. She was on the second floor. It wouldn’t have been much of a drop.

The door knob twisted, then rattled as the person on the other side realized it was not opening. Still not getting the result they wanted, the door started shaking on its hinges as if the doorknob was being tugged by an angry troll. Still not opening, the door shook on its hinges as something large slammed against it, most likely a person.

Angela took up her club and waited to the side of the door. One of the panels started separating from the frame. A flickering red light shone through the crack. Her adversary hit the door a few more times, enlarging the hole.

A large hand with olive skin and covered in thick, coarse hair, reached through, feeling for the lock. Angela swung hard, as hard as she could, pinning the hand between the wooden board and the doorframe.

The corner of the board struck the back of the hand, sinking into it with a sickening crunch. She was sure she had broken bones. Blood squirted out around the impact point, accompanied by a squeal from outside, not dissimilar to the sound of swine.

Angela glanced through the hole as the bleeding paw of a hand yanked back. She witnessed the slavering face of a madman, his eye flickering with hellfire. She pulled back with a gasp, her club, if a bit splintered, at the ready.

The yowling from hell stopped but the battering of the door increased. It shook on its hinges as the once human thing threw his body against the obstacle blocking its path. Angela backed up to the desk, preparing for the worst.

The panel in the door fell away in a crash, allowing the man-beast to climb through, and three more at its back. Angela drew the damaged slat back and swung for the thing’s hellish face, hoping to put its lights out, literally.

The soft wood finished splintering as it struck the thing across its head. Ragged shards of wood gouged deep into the feral thing's left eye, pulping it. Red-tinged fluid erupted from the socket, gushing down its face. A howl of agony, much more intense than the one it had unleashed when she had crushed its hand, came from its maw. It fell to the floor clawing at its ravaged face.

Seeing her window of opportunity, Angela took up the booklet of matches. Ripping two from the paper base, she struck them on the pad and held them for a moment, ensuring they had lit. She snatched the bottle from the desk and prepared to light her makeshift wick.

Angela glanced at her target, the man-beasts in the doorway, which had stopped and parted, creating a passage. It was a passage for something that was not quite human.

A statuesque blonde strutted up to the broken door. She was wearing tight leather pants and a matching leather bra. Her pale skin glowed in the light of the room. She shook her golden mane about her head and laughed.

"Come on, child. You really don't want to do that."

“You're going to burn, bitch."

Angela touched the guttering matches to alcohol-soaked cloth, causing it to flare to life. The vampire's eyes widened at the flame. With a determination borne of desperation, Angela threw the bottle at the tall woman.

The vampire attempted to swat it from the air. Her increased strength caused the result she desired least. Her hand struck the bottle at full force, shattering it. The liquid inside sprayed across her and her minions, the burning cloth ignited the fumes.

The man-things started running down the hallway, trailing flames in their wake, desperately attempting to get away from the agony that followed. Their howls of pain echoed down the hallway as their leader, the powerful woman that fueled their desires, was engulfed in the fire.

The creature's flesh ignited like paper. Her skin crisped quickly, her hair a torch, no longer blonde but now a flickering orange halo about her head. The shrieks that escaped her ever-widening maw were unearthly. No living being should be able to create such a horrific screech, somewhere between the ultrasonic squeals of a bat combined with the sound of tearing metal.

She feebly batted at the flames, knowing full well that it was too late the moment the burning fuel touched her skin. The alcohol had burned off quickly, and it was her undead flesh that was being consumed by fire.

The hallway carpet was spreading the fire to the walls, the flames licking at the wallpaper.  Soon the old ceiling would catch the flames, spreading them to the other floors.  Angela knew that if she had any chance of surviving, she needed to get out.

She turned and bolted to the window, throwing it open. She looked in the night to verify it was safe and slid her feet over the edge of the sill. She quietly dropped down to the grass, her legs collapsing under her from the impact.

She pushed herself to her feet, and she started to run across the lawn when she realized that she needed to go back. She wouldn't last long in Italy without her passport or money.

Angela turned to find two vampires standing in front of the window, watching her. One was a brunette in an open white blouse with an odd red print and skimpy black shorts. Her companion was a tall, shapely redhead, fully nude except what looked to be blood.

"You killed Ilsa!" The brunette snarled the words through teeth that looked to belong in a giant piranha. The razor teeth were offset by the full crimson lips.

Suddenly, without any detection of their movement, the two vampires were outside, standing before Angela.

"You realize that we can't let you go," said the redhead, putting all her weight on one hip, her breasts jiggling. "Barry killed Anya, and he had to pay the highest price. What a tasty price it was, too." She licked her lips lasciviously.

"Barry's dead?"

Kitien smiled at Angela's statement, as if his death was just a trivial thing and not the work of art and irony she had crafted.

"Oh, yes. He is dead and gone. You have committed the same crime, the slaying of one of the strigoi, or ‘vampire’ as you call us. Therefore, you must pay the same price…” She traded evil grins with the other vampire. “…a similar price, since you do not have a lovely cock that I can take for my own."

Angela's eyes whipped back and forth, as she quickly decided to take her chances in the night. She turned to run and ran face first into another dark-haired woman. She was just as attractive as the others, exuding an even stronger power. Her hand whipped out, fingernails like talons, and clutched Angela by the throat.

"Not so fast, little one." The grip tightened and Angela felt the nails sink into her skin as blood dripped down the sides of her neck. She knew this was it. No more running.

"As Cristina and Kitien just explained, the punishment must be repaid in kind."

Angela struggled against the ever-tightening grip, her vision growing dim at the edges. She flailed her arms wildly, striking Viktoriya a few times, but it was no more effective than a cat batting at a toy.

Viktoriya chuckled in response.

"This is a good one. She still has fight in her until the end. It is a shame we can't turn her. But, the Laws are very strict. Those who destroy strigoi must be put to a quick and horrible death.” Viktoriya paused for a moment, and then her eyes brightened. “I have an idea. Cristina, go retrieve the one from where you left it."

The brunette in the red-spattered blouse turned and darted off into the night. Viktoriya returned her gaze to the prey in her grasp. Noticing that the human was beginning to go limp, she loosened her grip a bit. However, the nail tips were still sunken in, ensuring she wouldn't fight too much.

Cristina returned carrying a human form wrapped in a sheet soaked in blood. She laid it in the space between Kitien and Viktoriya. Once the shape touched the earth, she returned to her place by the redhead's side.

"This should be good," said Cristina, smiling as she took Kitien's hand in her own and awaited the show to come.

Viktoriya glanced at her follower with a smirk, knowing full well what was to come, having witnessed it many times over the centuries since she was made.

The shape on the grass began to move, shifting under the cloth. A pale hand fell from the cloth and planted itself on the ground.

"I had looked forward to tasting your blood, but this is going to be so much more enjoyable." Viktoriya released Angela.

Angela clutched her throat as she coughed. She wanted to run, but her feet wouldn’t budge. It was as if they were planted in cement.

Viktoriya lifted the body as if it were made of paper. The sheet fell to the side revealing the wan face of a young woman, her eyes hungry and tinted red.

"Lucy!” Angela gasped.

Viktoriya smiled. "I had hoped to take you both, but it was not to be.” She then said to Lucy, “Feed, my child. She is yours."

Angela scuttled backward, trying to put some distance between them. Lucy gathered herself and pounced, clearing that newly formed distance with ease. She landed astride Angela's waist. Looking deep into her eyes, Angela saw there was a bit of Lucy left in there, fighting with the beast she had become.

"Please, don't do this!" Angela didn't care that she had given into begging. She saw the flicker of Lucy in those red eyes fade, and she knew her hopes we gone.

"Sorry, Angela, but Lucy's gone now." The vampire thrust her face into Angela's neck, nuzzling it like a lover while she ground her hips against her waist. The blood, mingled with her juices, soaked through Angela's top, the fabric sticking to them both. Angela struck Lucy repeatedly to no avail, each blow weaker than the one preceding it.

With a bite, Lucy’s teeth tore a hole in the skin of Angela's neck, freeing that exquisite red fluid, the elixir of eternal life. Lucy lapped it up like a hound, feeling the transformation completing.

The power was changing her physical form, an act that was incredibly painful, yet it triggered her pleasure centers as well. For the rest of her undead life, pleasure and pain would be equals in her mind, two sides of the same coin.

As the change finished, her newly enhanced teeth slid from their recesses, allowing her to open the wound further. She closed them on Angela's throat like a bear trap, rending flesh and sinew. She sealed her mouth over the wound, gulping to take every pulse that sprayed into the back of her throat, swallowing the life of her former acquaintance.

A strong hand pulled on Lucy's shoulder, prying her away from that delicious morsel sprawled on the grass, so much greener than before.

She looked back and saw Viktoriya looking down upon her. The moon shone as bright as the noonday sun.

"She is gone. You must stop now. It is time for you to rest."

Viktoriya stood tall, pulling Lucy up with her. She turned to look at Cristina and Kitien. "Let the hounds continue their rampage. Those men are of no more use to us. Tomorrow night, we leave this pitiful excuse for a home.

“I know of a new one, not more than a few hours away. We will begin again. Kitien, you know what you are to do with the body of Nero. Let him be found in Rome, just as his namesake was. This chapter is closed.

“Let us begin anew."

THE END

Chapter 15

Alternate Ending #5

Reign In Blood

Jim Goforth

For once, Angela wasn’t interred in a nightmare procession, chased relentlessly by faceless monsters of her past, tormented by a despairing Dallas calling to her from some tomb, or reliving some of the worst experiences of her life in lurid detail.

This time, she slept soundly, peacefully, strangely happy in a cocoon of bliss she hadn’t felt since, well, forever, but more specifically, since the last time she’d fallen asleep in the strong arms of Dallas. More importantly, she hadn’t thought of him or any of the other recurrent nightmares from her past, as she often did when asleep. She was often acutely aware of what she was dreaming and unable to do a thing about it, a helpless passenger aboard her mind’s terrible journey.

How typical to have the first good night’s sleep broken by some as yet unidentified commotion. Probably something to do with that musclebound, tattooed, cocky drunk Barry. He must have caused some kind of ruckus at Feral Hearts.

Damn Needledick. Wasn’t that what Paul called him? No, that wasn’t right. She inferred that herself. Barry ‘Needles’ Nero? The Needle? Something along those lines.

Angela hadn’t minded the look of Barry from the start. She sure dug his impressive ink and his superb physique, but then he’d opened his mouth and that was the end of any such attraction. Too many jerks cut from a similar cloth in her history to go blundering down that path again.

Anyway, she’d discovered something far better.

In the dark of her minuscule room, she lifted her head from the pillow, her black tresses falling in messy waves about her face as she propped herself up on an elbow. She could still hear a collective of noise issuing from outside her room, maybe somewhere down the hall a distance. It was not quite as furiously loud and calamitous as it had been before, but there were voices—some humming with panic, some hissing terse commands, and others more raucous and slightly unhinged.

Angela rolled over slightly, enough to be propped up on both elbows, and the bed sheets slipped down from her abundant breasts. From this position she could gaze down at the blissfully slumbering figure of her current bedmate.

With her brunette hair slightly ruffled and in disarray, Stefania lay curled on her side, a slight smile on her face, even in sleep.

Letting a smile traverse her own countenance, Angela stared for a short while at the peacefully reclining tour guide, recalling how this came to be. She remembered those tingling anticipatory moments when they undressed each other, Stefania’s expression one of mingling anxiety and excitement.

Angela hadn’t planned it, but she’d come to the conclusion along the way that there was nothing in the life rules she set for herself ruling out a relationship with another female. After all, she’d done plenty of experimentation with women back before Dallas.

Even after, but never anything serious. Nothing was serious after that. Shit, nothing was a relationship after that.

There was that other guy with an affinity for alcohol, the sandy haired guy, Paul, Mister Moneybags, gallivanting around with cash from Daddy. He’d momentarily piqued Angela’s interest. She wondered if there was any likelihood of anything developing there, but he’d elected to swan off with Needles to the strip club Stefania spoke of in such disapproving tones.

Strip club, my ass, Angela snorted. She knew a brothel when she saw one. It may well have been a strip club, but without a doubt, those exotic dancers there were turning tricks as well.

Too bad, Paul. If you’d been able to play your cards right, maybe you would have been entertaining some time with me, instead of spending Daddy’s dollars on foreign hookers.

As for you Needles, at the rate you throw booze down your neck, I’d be surprised if you could keep that needle up long enough to penetrate.

None of her other companions sparked any real interest in Angela, nothing primal anyway, and nothing that fired up her libido to any maximum sense of thrill.

Lucy was, of course, attractive in her own way, but her business woman professional persona just left Angela cold. That was no slight on the psychologist herself, merely the aura she exuded. Strictly career oriented people didn’t float Angela’s boat, which she supposed was a little narrow minded of her, but she could never see herself settling into any relationship groove with one. More to the point, she could imagine how horrified Lucy would be if Angela did elect to make a move on her.

Jenna…well, she might be a whole lot of fun to play with despite the fact that she evoked no physical desire in Angela. She was somebody who could have her horizons vastly broadened, somebody who might be eager to learn new things. Then again, maybe not. Shit, look at her with the M&Ms. She needed odd numbers to balance her life. Angela couldn’t fathom how she might function in any sort of monogamous relationship.

That means two people, Jenna. Exclusively two. Your numbers thing wouldn’t cope well with that. Maybe a threesome would be more up your alley.

In a way, it seemed as though Jenna had already slipped into some type of threesome, with the triumvirate of Lucy, Jamie and herself. She was clearly somewhat fascinated by Jamie and having the feeling reciprocated, with Lucy acting as the buffer to ensure neither one of the others found themselves floundering in water too deep for them.

Funny how that had worked out, especially considering Lucy’s story with the M&Ms as well, painting herself as some sort of third wheel in everything, watching life pass her by.

Jamie didn’t send Angela’s hormones skyrocketing either. He was certainly a nice guy, the nicest of the three who’d joined the tour thus far, which wasn’t a difficult task stacking him up alongside Double Trouble Paul and Barry the Brute.

However, he came across a fraction effeminate and morose. She understood his despair over the suicide of his ex-partner—oh she understood losing somebody only too well. However, that was just one of the things that made her wary about even contemplating anything with him.

Stefania, on the other hand…

After the tour broke up, concluding with them all enjoying some time at the café, they returned to the hotel. Jenna and Lucy elected to head back to their room, opting for showers and relaxation. The gal pals probably intended on discussing Jenna’s burgeoning ‘relationship’ with Jamie over mud masks and cucumber slices for their eyes.

As for Jamie, he politely said his own goodbyes, reserving a special smile just for Jenna, and then took his leave of everybody else, vanishing to parts unknown with an agenda not made privy to anybody else. Not even Jenna.

Maybe off to pick up some trade, Angela mused to herself, though she decided not to voice that aloud. She envisioned how swiftly she might incur the righteous ire of Lucy and the horrified disbelief of Jenna if she dared to even broach the subject, so she kept that one well and truly to herself.

With Drunk and Drunker still off frolicking in the funhouse that was Feral Hearts, only Angela and Stefania remained. Just when it became apparent that Stefania was about to clock off and go to wherever it was she called home, Angela had made her decision.

“If you’ve got nothing on right now, Stefania, how would you like to come back and have a couple of drinks? We’ve all had a big day. It might be nice to unwind. If you want to know more about me, we can have a little one-on-one talk over a nice cocktail or two.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t have anything on, or don’t want to know any more about me?”

“Oh, I don’t have anything on!” Stefania laughed, a little nervously. “I…well, I’m definitely intrigued to learn more about you, Angela, the mystery woman.”

“Well, all right!” Angela enthused. “If you want me to peel back my mystical veneer a little, first you have to get me liquored up. No, I’m just kidding around. Just a couple of drinks to lighten the mood. No need to worry about me turning into the female version of Boozehound Barry or Prince Paul of the Golden Spoon.

“Besides, to tell you the truth, I’m feeling a bit left out here. Those two guys are all buddied up and more interested in whores than anything else, and well, the three Musketeers have got their own thing going on.”

“Three Musketeers?” Stefania didn’t follow.

“Jenna, Jamie and Lucy. Three Musketeers, Three Amigos, Three Stooges, whatever you want to call them.”

The references were lost on Stefania, but the names of the other three tour members together like that made all the sense, and she nodded solemnly.

“So, are you sure?” Angela queried, wanting to be certain. “Nothing you need to do, nowhere you need to be? No hot date lined up elsewhere? Nothing?”

“No. Nothing. I’m completely free.”

And that was that.

They began with cocktails in the bar of the Derosso Grande, and then continued with some more drinks in Angela’s hotel room.

Conversation went from light-hearted banter to more serious discussions. Their interaction went from playful touches that seemed accidental, to more deliberate motions and protracted eye contact.

They went from testing each other’s amateur massage skills on one another’s knotted up muscles, aches, and pains from the lengthy day to that very first instance where Angela captured one of Stefania’s small, perfectly formed hands in her own and soft, pliant lips met.

At first, there was a transitory instance of resistance, and Stefania drew back, her face an exhibition of surprise, nervousness, and more than a little excitement.

“I…I’ve never done this before,” she said, breathlessly.

“This?”

“This. With…a girl before.”

“Do you want to stop?” Angela asked gently.

“No,” Stefania responded after a momentary pause during which her dark eyes searched the depths of Angela’s. There was no reluctance in her voice, just a shaky quaver of anticipation. “No, I don’t.”

From that point on, it was a tangle of mouths, lips locking, hands in each other’s hair, barely pausing for breath while they removed sections of each other’s clothing. Then there were lips and tongues everywhere, fingers and hands, mouths all over one another.

Stefania may not have had any sort of experience with another woman before, but she was keen with desire to learn. She was a rapid learner, soaking up everything Angela had to offer with a fervent passion.

Now some inharmonious burst of activity outside in the hotel hallway was impolitely wrenching Angela out of the best sleep she could recall, at what she assumed was some ridiculous hour of the early morning.

The red LED numbers on the alarm clock atop the bedside drawer informed Angela that it was quarter past two in the morning. She was wearing a dainty gold wristwatch on her left wrist (a present from Dallas), but its dial wasn’t luminous for her to see the time.

Aside from the watch and her black teardrop earrings, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. Reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the bed shared with Stefania, Angela nonetheless knew she had to check out what was going on out there, if only just to have a laugh at the stupidly intoxicated pair of Barry and Paul. Perhaps they were being carted back to the hotel in disgrace by the local and apparently corrupt constabulary. Polizia. Or whatever they were called over here.

Slinking out of bed quietly, Angela proceeded to locate some fresh clothes, observing the random tangles of what she and Stefania were wearing before, knotted together in patches all over the carpet as if they too were engaged in some fabric lovers tryst.

She stepped into a new thong, recalling with a certain thrill of delight how Stefania assisted in the removal of her other one, tentatively at first and then with more commanding motions.

She was surprised by how deeply the Italian girl was slumbering, unconcerned by the commotion that issued from outside. She shrugged as she moved silently around the room to dress, her eyes somewhat accustomed to the dark now.

Perhaps the girl was thoroughly worn out, or perhaps she was quite used to sleeping through a certain degree of noise. Whatever the case, Angela elected not to disturb her. She looked beautiful, angelic, and at peace in her sleeping reverie with strands of hair trailing over her forehead and cheekbones.

She finished dressing in a black blouse and a black skirt that flowed nicely around her thighs. Angela ensured she had the electronic card, which acted as her room key, on her person, slipping it into the pocket of her top, over her right breast. It wouldn’t be smart, slipping out into the hallway and having that heavy door glide shut behind her, locking her out in the hallway, the tour guide inside her room fast asleep and naked in her bed.

She realised it might have been quicker just throwing on one of those fluffy white bathrobes and making her way out to investigate the ruckus, but if it was the two loudmouths returning from their whorehouse excursion, she could only imagine how inebriated they would be now and what sort of crass innuendos would be prone to tumble from their mouths. Barry was on the way to stumbling around drunk before he and Paul even set off on their illicit jaunt to the place of ill repute…

…where the Russian harlots preyed upon men. Married men, young men, old men. Infected them with a contagion that had them howling at the moon. Seeing demons. Witches. Madness on their brains…

…so by now, the tattooed hunk must be at the stage of falling down flat on his face, inebriated, curling up and vomiting streams of hot liquid puke and bile. Paul probably wasn’t much better if he’d strived to keep up with the copious amounts of liquor Barry ‘The Needle’ Nero imbibed in. That is, unless he somehow had the good sense to maintain some level of sobriety to make sure  the pair of them weren’t completely suckered and fleeced of everything they own by the Russian whores, and that they made it back to the correct hotel in one piece.

In a foreign country, shit could hit the fan real quick. Wandering around drunk in a bad part of town, where by Stefania’s account the police force were on the payroll of the brothel kingpin, was a sure fire way to find themselves well and truly fucked.

And not in a good way.

Angela stepped outside, letting the door slide shut behind her, knowing it would close and automatically lock. Impulsively, she touched the area around her right breast and felt the comfort of the small plastic shape, making sure she had indeed placed the item there.

Damn Angie, she thought to herself with a small laugh. You’re turning into Jenna!

The hallway outside the rooms was deserted, and she halted in a quandary of indecision. Surely, she hadn’t been dreaming the commotion. After all, she’d heard the sounds carry on long after they yanked her out of sleep. She’d wasted moments gazing at Stefania sleeping and mentally wandering back over their first sexual encounter.

Now, whatever or whoever had been the source of her awakening, was absent.

Angela couldn’t quite recall hearing any slamming doors. Then she noticed, as evidenced by the very moderate thump her own room door just made closing behind her, that the hydraulic system prevented slamming.

She would hardly have heard any doors shut unless she was virtually out in the hallway with them. Even with the electronic key system in place, the doors still had security chains on them, but would she have even heard anybody putting one of them up in place? She didn’t think so.

Again, she heard panicked voices, some hushed and fearful, others raised and aggressive, albeit still with hints of dread loitering in them. They emanated from the room shared by Paul and Barry.

It sounded like there were more than the two guys in there. There were female voices as well.

Shit, did they bring a couple of the Russian hookers back with them? No, wait…it sounds like Jenna…and Lucy.

For a brief moment, Angela debated totally ignoring the whole thing altogether and returning to her room, slipping back into the comfort of her bed with the warm, beguiling flesh of Stefania. Then she decided otherwise. At least one of the drunk fuckheads owed her an explanation as to why they were making a hell of a disturbance in the dead of night.

She knocked loudly with a closed fist, not a rap with her knuckles but a thumping with the curled up side of her hand.

“Don’t touch that fucking door!” said the panicked voice of Barry. “Nobody go near that door!”

“Quiet!” hissed another voice, this one belonging to Paul. “You idiot, don’t let them know where we are!”

“Guys, it’s me,” Angela called back, her mouth up close to where the door sat in the frame, assuming that might in some way carry her voice inside a little better. “I don’t know what the hell kind of bad trip you guys have been on, or if you snorted some fucked up lines out there in the Russian whorehouse, but it’s just me.”

“Who is me?” Jenna’s voice trilled, small and worried.

“Angela.” Angela shook her head, wondering to herself who the fuck else it could be? Jesus, they all sound scared out of their wits. What the hell is going on?

“Don’t let anyone in! She…could be one of them!” Barry warned.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lucy reprimanded. Then, a couple of impossibly long seconds later, the room door cracked open and widened enough for Angela to see the face of Lucy, framed by her hair. She looked solemn and yet incredibly afraid as she peered out over the security chain.

“What the hell is going on?” Angela asked.

“Either get in or stay out!” Paul shouted. “But get that fucking door shut! Now!”

Lucy removed the chain with trembling hands that she couldn’t hide from Angela’s watchful eyes. Angela slipped into the room, noticing that the normally unruffled psychologist did not bother to open the door all the way, only enough to allow Angela entry.

Once she was inside, Lucy hurriedly pushed the door shut again and replaced the chain. Angela cast her eyes around the room shared by the two guys. Aside from more luggage than seemed necessary for two bachelors, the lodgings were virtually identical to the one she at the moment had to herself, although the small size of it felt cramped with five individuals now inside it.

Paul was stalking around the perimeter of the room in the fashion of a caged animal, muttering impotent ramblings, threats, and curses to nobody in particular. Jenna sat on the very edge of one of the twin double beds, wringing her hands, her visage a picture of consternation laced with abject fear.

There was a single leather recliner chair in the corner of the room seating the slumped figure of Barry ‘The Needle’ Nero, his shirt hanging around his muscled frame in bloody ribbons of fabric. His big hand was clapped around the side of his neck.

From his midriff leered an impressive demon visage, a tattoo that Angela thought to be quite impressive, but right now didn’t seem to be the time to appreciate the intricacies of the work; instead, with splashes of blood dotted across it, the hideous devilish entity looked wrong and unnerving.

“What the fuck happened to you?” She wanted to know, raising both eyes in query. “You dumbasses get into a fight at the Russian knock shop? Let me guess—someone tried to touch the dancers without flashing some bills first?”

“No!” Barry yelled back frantically. “They’re fucking vampires, those bitches, all of them, and I killed one because she fucking bit me, and fucking now, they’re here and we’re all fucked!”

“What?” Angela shot looks from Barry to Paul, then to Lucy and Jenna.

“That fucking fag Jamie led them right to us!” Barry continued his ranting tirade, his tone almost feverish.

“He’s not a fag!” Jenna blurted, affronted.

“Well, he swings both ways then,” Paul added. “He swings all ways. Now he’s swung a rope in a noose right around all our necks.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Jenna asserted, as if somehow that absolved her and Lucy, and possibly Angela, from any involvement.

“I don’t know what the fuck any of you are talking about,” Angela said, “but I sure wish if there was going to be a big drug party that I’d at least have been invited.”

“Nobody took any drugs,” Lucy spoke up sharply. “At least not Jenna or I, but…”

“Don’t just tell her,” Barry groaned from his chair. “Show her!”

“Show me what?”

Once again, it was Lucy taking charge of the situation, hastening Angela to the window while Paul persisted in his aimless prowl, Jenna continued to clasp her hands, and Barry slouched in the chair.

Below was a scene of complete bedlam and insanity. Bizarre, misshapen figures she presumed were human were teeming over the courtyard and the hotel grounds, giving vent to a conglomeration of sounds that married howls with guttural growls.

Howling at the moon? Demons? Madness on the brain?

That wasn’t all. Amidst them moved voluptuous women in revealing outfits with savage eyes and vicious purpose mirrored on their faces.

As Angela gazed in disbelief, she saw these stooped and deformed foot soldiers launching attacks upon any foolish souls unfortunate enough to be caught in the slipstream, any luckless hotel patrons perhaps returning from a very late night out.

The skimpily dressed cordon of women ignored these random assaults, instead spanning out their formation. A bunch of them went straight in the front entrance of the Derosso Grande and into the foyer, while others spread all around the hotel’s perimeter.

Before Angela’s astonished eyes, she saw a young couple, arm-in-arm, evidently on their way back from a late romantic stroll or an illicit fumble in the dark, wander with blissful oblivion into the hell that was unfolding on the grounds of the hotel.

A throng of baying, gibbering maniacs surrounded them like a pack of wolves, the only difference between them and wolves being that they didn’t wait to spring in on their prey. They lacked the finesse of attacking wolves. They ripped limbs with clawed hands, bending them and breaking bones. They battered with fists and gnashed with teeth at flesh, yanking hair out of heads with a ferocity that must have scalped the hapless victims.

In those terrible seconds before Angela and Lucy both jerked away from the window, Angela fleetingly wondered if the luckless couple, now hunks of inanimate flesh, were the same duo she’d spied on her bus trip here.

Lucy looked as though she was about to be sick, her face drained of colour so thoroughly she might have been able to glow in the dark.

“What’s happening?” Jenna asked, though she didn’t really want to know. What she desperately wanted was for this to go away, or to wake up and discover she’d been trapped in a horrible dream.

“Very bad shit,” said Angela. Paul exchanged knowing looks with Barry.

“Define bad shit,” Jenna said slowly.

“Well…some of the Russian Whore Squad are in the hotel, others are surrounding the hotel, and whatever the fuck those…twisted deformities are…well, they’re just randomly ripping people to fucking pieces! You know, the usual shit you might expect on a tour like this.”

“What are we going to do?” Jenna wailed, her voice shrill with desperate panic. Lucy hastened to crouch down before her, making an effort to comfort her and allay her fear with murmured words Angela couldn’t quite catch.

“I’ll tell you one thing for free,” Paul spoke up, rubbing a hand furiously across his ruddy nose as if he smelled something putrid. “We can’t fucking stay here!”

When he removed his hand, the busted capillaries in his nose looked even more pronounced, flushed by the recent alcohol he’d imbibed in, and obviously, plenty of years of hard drinking too. He unconsciously fingered the two small holes on his neck.

“Why can’t we stay in here?” asked Jenna.

“Would have thought that much was obvious,” Paul snarled. “Your little friend Jamie is going to lead them all right to our very door. In case you missed the memo, it’s me and Baz on the chopping block first, and well, you tell me…whose room are we all gathered in right at this precise moment in time?”

“Jamie wouldn’t do that! Maybe he’s trying to trick that woman…”

“Viktoriya,” Paul interjected.

“If that’s even her name. Maybe, he is trying to lead her into a trap.”

“Bullshit!” Barry howled from his recliner chair slump. “What trap? He’s already created a trap! For all of us. Don’t try and give us that bullshit about him being a sweet guy and he’d never do anything to hurt us rubbish. You saw with your own eyes. He’s up to his neck in this shit, and that means we’re fucked. How many times do I have to say this?”

Shaking her head, but clamping her mouth shut, Jenna turned away from Barry and did her best to ignore Paul.

“Baz has got it in one,” Paul said. “Jamie is a doublecrossing traitor sonofabitch, and he’s hooked up with Viktoriya and her gang of insane sluts, and you can bet your sweet ass that he is going to give them our exact room numbers. Then we’re toast. Or meat. Whichever suits you better.”

Still hunkered down underneath the level of the window sill, not keen to raise her head again and have those unearthly yellow, gleaming eyes lance through her like freakish lasers, Angela turned her attention to Paul. “Where do you suggest we go then? Can’t very well go waltzing out the front door, can we? Most of those bitches are coming into the lobby, and they’re going to swarm this whole place.”

“I don’t know!” Paul shouted, stamping his feet. “Anywhere but this room. Or any of our rooms.”

“How do you know Jamie is going to include Lucy and me? Or Angela?” Jenna pressed again. “We didn’t go into that horrible place, and we didn’t do anything. We told you not to go!”

“I think that’s probably irrelevant now,” Lucy murmured quietly, recalling that she herself made a remark that perhaps they should just go ahead and let the two headstrong guys make their way to Feral Hearts so the remainder of the group could enjoy the tour. Come to think of it, all the other girls eventually chimed in to agree with those sentiments.

“Yeah. That’s right. It is irrelevant,” Paul barked. “Don’t start getting the idea that just because Jamie is sweet on you, Jenna, he isn’t going to sell you down the river just like he’s done with the rest of us. He doesn’t give half a fuck about that. He’s in with Viktoriya.”

“As much as I don’t want to believe any of this, as much as I want to think the best of Jamie,” Lucy spoke up solemnly, “I know what I saw too. We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to get out of this room, and now.”

“Well…is our room going to be safe?” Jenna wondered.

“Jesus, I swear your ears are painted on!” Paul blasted. “Not our room, not your room, not Angela’s room, and sure as fuck not Jamie’s room! Another room, somewhere else is the best bet.”

“Another room?” Jenna echoed. “How are we going to do that? Ring the desk and all ask for a room swap?”

Angela, mostly silent up until now, had been mulling over a few things she’d picked up in various conversations earlier on in the day. Now she piped up.

“I think I might have an idea on that…”

* * *

Jamie hurried away from the rendezvous with the Russian brothel queen, burning with an odd mixture of shame and relief, not even wholly certain of his destination right now.

I did this for you, Nico, he said to the drifting face in his mind, those forlorn grey eyes still haunting him. If Viktoriya gets what she wants, achieves what she has to, then she will erase my memory of you. It’s best for everybody this way. Maybe she can take away all the horrid thoughts in my head as well. Maybe she can replace them with happier ones and make me think I actually knew my dad. Or even make me think I had one in the first place.

He didn’t know if he was trying to convince the ghost in his thoughts or himself of this, but he knew one thing for damn sure. He needed to get himself inside pronto, and the Derosso Grande was the only viable option, despite the fact that it was the focal point of Viktoriya and her horde of hellcats. Not to mention those twisted insane freaks she’d brought in howling packs of lunacy. The sanitarium inmates were released and free to inflict their own special brands of mayhem.

The other savage females under Viktoriya’s command might have well known to leave Jamie be, but he didn’t quite think the hunched, hooting band of crazies were aligned with that proviso. He feared they’d turn him into a tangle of bones and bloody flesh as quickly as they’d done any of the other unfortunate souls still wandering the grounds at this ungodly hour.

The townsfolk must have seen this coming, must have known that D-day was fast approaching, for they’d shut up shops long ago, locked themselves inside residences, barricaded themselves, and rolled up the town. It was only unsuspecting tourists and unwary fools who didn’t know the horrible thrall the Feral Hearts congregation held Derosso in, and it was these hapless souls who fell under the wave of lunatics, meat to be raped and massacred.

What if Viktoriya doesn’t get what she wants? What then? a mocking little voice trailed in his head as he slunk inside the hotel through a surreptitious side entrance usually reserved for cleaning staff. What then, Jamie? Your head is still filled with a plague of Nico and you can add a bunch of other tormented faces to that, more people to haunt you in dreams. What if Viktoriya has absolutely no intention of doing anything for you? Then you’ve consigned everyone to their deaths. Nice thing to carry around on your conscience on top of Nico.

What do I care about these people? Jamie said bitterly to himself. Barry ‘The Needle’ Nero. A self-absorbed asshole and a drunk who deserves everything he’s got coming to him. Screw him. Paul, well, he’s a spoiled rich brat, pissed off because Daddy cancelled his allowance. Big deal, fuckpuppet. At least you knew your father. Bet you were one of those big macho types at school who found joy in pounding on kids like me. And Lucy…

In all honesty Jamie couldn’t exactly think of a reason why Lucy should be the recipient of the vampire’s wrath, or Angela either for that matter. After all, the most Lucy might have done was monopolise some of Jenna’s attention, and Angela didn’t even appear to have any interest in a single one of the group, certainly not enough to wish any of them harm. She hadn’t done anything to warrant harm being brought to her either. None of them had.

However, harm was coming to them all in a bad way, and Jamie had served them up to Viktoriya on a silver platter. Including Jenna. Poor sweet Jenna, with her quirks and her cosplay and her similar love for felines.

Guilt and sorrow punched twin hammers into Jamie’s being as these thoughts rattled his brain, dragging him back to the café where it felt as though he and Jenna were the only two people in existence, just talking incessantly without any of those awkward hesitations between subjects that strangers might otherwise have to contend with.

“Oh Jesus,” Jamie moaned. He knew the Russian doombringers were coming specifically for Barry and Paul, but that didn’t mean everybody else wasn’t going to be caught in the crossfire. In fact, he knew with a sinking feeling that all of them were going to be murdered. Jenna too. She was nothing more than cattle to Viktoriya’s crew, a simple source of food and nothing more.

Get some spine about you, Jamie. This time, the scathing voice inside his head belonged to his mother, lashing him with her acid tongue.

Jamie altered his trajectory and ran.

* * *

“I need to go back to my room for a moment,” Angela said.

“Why is that?” Lucy wanted to know.

“Don’t worry. Just hang tight for a bit, everybody. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“No, hang on there,” Paul said. “You can’t suddenly say some shit about something that might help us out here and then decide to bail to your room. I’m not buying that. I’m thinking you are going to use whatever magical horseshit you’re going on about and haul ass out of here, leaving everybody else high and dry. No dice. You go, we all go. Your room is probably better than here anyway, since this is going to be the first one they hit.”

“I thought you said all our rooms were in danger,” Jenna whined, still wringing her hands so much it looked like she might twist them off at the wrists.

“They are,” Paul snapped, “but if Miss Mysterious has some kind of—”

“Listen,” Angela cut him off, “today, Stefania said something interesting. Her parents, of course, own the tour company, but what’s more, they have a sizeable stake in the Derosso Grande itself.”

“I don’t remember hearing her say that,” Jenna looked puzzled.

“You wouldn’t have,” Angela said dismissively. “It was later she said it. After the tour. Anyway…”

“How the fuck is that interesting?” Barry suddenly blared from his seat off in the corner. “More to the point, what’s it got to do with anything that’s gonna help us out of this shit?”

He was looking quite the worse for wear. The Needle. He kind of looked as though he’d spent a little too long indulging in a different type of needle than his usual, his face haggard and grey, eyes rolling and bloodshot.

“It might be a big hotel, but it isn’t going to take those feral bitches long to get up here, so the less interruptions the better,” said Angela. “Stefania has some sort of free reign of this place. She has the equivalent to a master key. To every room, all facilities.”

“Well, that’s fantastic, fine and fucking dandy, and all that shit,” Paul interjected, still pacing relentlessly, alternating between furiously running his fingers through his dirty bedraggled hair and punching the palms of his hands. “But, again, how the hell does that help us? What use is that to us? At all? You going to call Stefania to fly here on a magical broomstick and expect her to hand over this skeleton key?”

“Not exactly. Stefania’s…well…” A slight blush coloured Angela’s cheeks. “Stefania’s in my room.”

“What is she doing in…oh!” As expected, Lucy looked shocked, and Jenna just continued to look puzzled. However, a knowing glimmer sparked in Paul’s eyes, a fraction of the old mischievous ladies’ man Paul pushing out from under the brusque, panicked Paul holding court at the moment.

If Barry had been feeling more like himself instead of zoning out into a world of his own, he too would have been all over that like a rash. Angela was slightly relieved to see he’d completely missed the remark.

“Well, well, well,” said Paul, a smirk crawling over his face despite the grave situation facing them. Angela couldn’t precisely say whether he was more pleased by the girl-on-girl images he probably now had on his brain or the fact that the saviour with the magic master key was a whole lot closer than anticipated. Probably the former.

Definitely the former.

“That would be right,” Paul lamented. “Shit starts to get interesting at the same time everything goes tits up.”

* * *

With Stefania awake, dressed, and clued in on the dreadful turn of events now confronting them, the sextet prepared to make tracks to somewhere they would be able to hide from the pestilence about to overrun the hotel.

She was far from happy about being involved at all. In fact, she was downright opposed to it, more of the mindset that Paul and Barry blatantly brought the plague down upon themselves and should wear the repercussions. Despite all her best efforts to warn them off entering that sleazy pit of hell, they’d gone ahead and done as they pleased anyway, and whatever her other responsibilities to the tour group, now all bets were off.

The two ladykillers (a most apt reference for Barry) had consequently brought hell to the Derosso Grande and in doing so, entangled and endangered them all. It was only when Angela gently reminded her that she, too, was going to be swallowed up in the mayhem that she relented, grudgingly agreeing to spirit them away to somewhere in the great hotel where they might be safe.

Before they could even begin to put the wheels in motion, hell came rolling down the corridors of the hotel.

Angela’s assertion that Viktoriya and the vengeful vamps wouldn’t waste time getting to the upper level of the limestone building was a correct one, and while it may have seemed as though a fair amount of time passed since she’d first witnessed them enter, perhaps they’d spent some of that below, terrorising staff and patrons and destroying the lobby and lower level just for the fun of it. Maybe they derived cruel satisfaction at watching their insane foot soldiers run amok with a bloodlust in the palatial resort.

The Derosso Grande only boasted two levels, but it housed a massive amount of rooms within them Consequently, there were some long hallways in the place. Simultaneous with the six stepping out of their respective rooms, members of the group immediately noticed what was coming for them from the far end of those corridors.

Jenna screamed instinctively as she saw them, a flock of curvaceous demonesses in their barely-there attire, most of them splattered with bright droplets of crimson, some with faces streaming gore, all with baleful eyes of yellow.

Yellow. A fake colour. A colour of deception. Now it seemed to be a colour heralding impending doom.

Inexplicably, Barry jumped backwards and into his own room again. His hands flashed out to grab Lucy, dragging her in with him. He had the door slammed shut before Jenna could comprehend that her friend was gone, back into the very room both Barry and Paul swore they needed to be well clear of.

“Fuck me sideways!” Paul gasped in horror. “Bollocks! Run!”

With that said, he ran. Stefania ran, seizing one of Angela’s hands as she did. In a desperate panic, looking for Lucy, Jenna ran too.

They fled down the corridor, hitting a corner that would take them right, into another hallway. They barreled past loaded luggage carts, laundry carts, and even abandoned cleaning carts that should been accompanied by maids.

They raced along this corridor, dotted strangely by so many unattended carts and luggage racks, with Paul a long way ahead, followed by the two women hand-in-hand, and Jenna bringing up the rear. Hands flashed out from amidst rows of hanging laundry, snatching Jenna. One hand clasped firmly around her mouth, silencing her involuntary scream, and another snagged her around the waist and dragged her in among rows of suits and long evening gowns.

“Quiet!” whispered a voice in her ear. “It’s me.”

Eyes boggling wide with surprise, Jenna tried to voice a query muffled to the point of inaudibility behind the steady clasp of the hand.

“Jamie. Now, be very still and quiet!”

* * *

“What are you doing?” Lucy cried, kicking vainly against the sudden surge of strength Barry appeared to have become endowed with. One moment, he’d looked as if he was on the verge of death, slumped like a bloodstained lump of steak in his chair with that gruesome gargoyle glaring from its position on his bared torso, his face a cadaverous pale and his eyes sunken; the next, he was bodily hauling her back inside his room.

“Relax, Doc,” Barry advised, his tattooed arms like bands of steel around her waist and her sternum. “Just take it easy. No need to feel like a third wheel anymore. You’ve been looking for a man, longing for a man. Well, here I am. Amy, Lisa, their pitiful excuses for boyfriends, they’ve got nothing on me. You’ve got the cream of the crop now.”

“I never told you…”

“Didn’t have to tell me anything.” His voice slithered into her ear, sibilant, and somehow pulsing with an energy that raised goose bumps all over her entire body. “I know everything.”

He swung her around, lifting her right off her feet, and flung her away from him. She landed on the far side of the room, crumpling in an ungainly sprawl on the carpet. From her uncomfortable tangle on the floor, she saw that his powerfully muscular bulk comprehensively blocked the door.

With a creeping laugh that started somewhere way down inside of him and then bubbled its way out between his lips, Barry stripped what remained of his shredded wreck of a shirt off and flung the bloody rags away, his body rippling like a multi-coloured tapestry composed entirely of muscles.

“You don’t want to do this Barry. Why are you wasting your time with this?”

“Trying to psychoanalyse me, Doc? Here’s the scoop. From the moment I clapped eyes on you, I was sure as hell keen to analyse you, if you catch my drift. With an emphasis on the first four letters of that. But now…there’s nothing more I would love to do than sink my fangs into your long succulent neck and drain that sweet bloody nectar out!”

His eyes flared like unearthly yellow fire. With the corpse-like pallor of his face, they appeared to be popping right out of their sockets.

His lips peeled back in an expression equal parts grimace and grin, and his canines were impossibly long and curved, wicked, sharp, and wolfish.

With demented laughter, Barry crossed the distance between the front door and Lucy in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Paul didn’t care that he was losing the others, putting more and more distance between those falling behind him. All he cared about was getting as far away as he could, and his long lanky strides were ensuring that happened. His tour companions trailed behind, and further behind the vicious vampiric bitches of Feral Hearts were gliding after them.

Paul was getting gassed quick, running out of puff. This fleeing shit was for the birds. He was way out of practice, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had to run so hard. If only he’d had an opportunity to snort a quick couple of lines of speed, he would’ve been showing everyone a clean pair of heels, running like the wind. The come-down would’ve been a bitch, just like every amphetamine jag, but hell, he’d have been way the fuck away from this calamity.

Escaping was his priority. Worrying about what happened to chicks from the tour was not. Better they were back there than him. If they got their butts nabbed by the fanged sluts, all the better for him. It would slow the bloodsucking whores down enough to give the ol’ Paul Clarkson some breathing space.

Paul ran until he came up against doors. Any he found unlocked, he went through, certain the more doors he managed to get through and put between himself and the pursuing freak bitches, the more it held him in good stead to locate a suitable hiding place.

On his mad dash he discovered he’d entered what he assumed was some kind of ballroom. It was dark, though some light shone through a couple of long windows, enough for him to see the place was set up for some grand dinner party. There were scores of long tables covered in ornate tablecloths and centrepieces and surrounded by chairs.

Slipping inside the room, Paul observed that he wasn’t alone. Some of the tables seated people. His appearance caused not a single ripple, as though not one soul even noticed it. Why they were all dining in the dark was a little beyond Paul, but as he neared the closest table where a slice of light from the window fell upon the table cloth and provided some illumination, he saw why none of them stirred.

The spreading dark stain saturating what should have been a pristine white table adornment was not because somebody had been over exuberant with their Bolognese sauce.

Paul gasped in shock as he realised that none of these folks were alive. They were mere husks of people, punctured of neck and drained of blood, each one of them.

“Paul…” A feminine voice floated throughout the room, magical and seductive, yet fraught with menace. “Oh, Paul…”

Instinctively, Paul hit the floor, sprawling headlong on it. He crawled along the carpet, breath punching out of him raggedly after the marathon he’d run to escape. He knew that mocking voice wasn’t one of his tour companions, not with that thick Russian accent.

“Come out, come out, Scarecrow. Come out and play. Don’t you want me to fuck you to death?”

Shit! Viktoriya, the Queen Bitch herself! Scarecrow? How does she know that?  Paul couldn’t recall making any mention of that old nickname at any stage. He knew he wasn’t anywhere near that drunk. Heart pounding in his throat, he dragged himself under the nearest length of table, thankful for the virtually floor-length coverings.

“Come on, Scarecrow.” Her words penetrated his brain, as if she were, in fact, inside his head. “I know you want me. Come out and play. This is consensual, you know. Not like that time back in your homeland.”

Jesus sodding Christ! She WAS in his head!

Paul hugged the floor, the side of his face flat against it, trying not to think about the fact that all the patrons of the table he was underneath were dead and dripping blood into their uneaten meals. He vaguely wondered if he was lying in pools of coagulating blood and hoped that if he was, it would mask the scent of his own.

Then the tablecloth whisked away…no, the entire table, complete with deceased diners. A rush of air tore through his scarecrow hair as his hiding place vanished, and he heard a distant crash from elsewhere in the ballroom as the piece of furniture landed unceremoniously. The circle of dead customers toppled from upended chairs and for a brief moment, he was face to face with the gore splattered visage of a moustached man that landed next to him.

Then, that too was gone and clawed hands dug into his flesh, yanking him bodily to his feet. Up off his feet. Into the air.

He looked down at the countenance of the Queen Bitch, her eyes blazing with that unnatural golden hue, her mouth agape and baring fangs that dripped with dark crimson droplets.

“Oh, and Scarecrow,” she laughed, the contemptuous vibe resonating around his head, “I lied about the fucking bit. Let’s just skip to the death part.”

She didn’t bite him with a simple two canine stab to the neck. She ripped his entire throat out in a sanguinary shower of blood and meat fragments.

* * *

“We can’t leave Lucy!” Jenna pleaded as Jamie hastened her along. “She’s back in the hotel room! With Barry!”
“Barry’s been bitten,” Jamie replied shortly. “If he isn’t already dead, then he is going to morph. Or already has. In any case, forget Lucy. She’ll be dead too.”

“But…what? Morph?”

“Change into one of them. Contrary to popular belief, not everybody bitten by a vampire turns into one. They either die immediately, they morph immediately, they get sick and die later, or they get sick and morph later. Either way, they’re both gone, Jenna. I only came back for you, and that’s all that matters.”

“How do you know these things? And how do you know these…creatures?”

“I owe them a debt,” Jamie said brusquely. “Owed.”

“Which you paid in blood! Everybody’s blood!”

“They’re vampires. There is no other way to pay a debt to them,” Jamie replied, almost apologetically.

Jenna slapped him, the open-palm blow stinging and leaving a red mark vivid on his cheek. He merely nodded once, his face solemn and sorrowful.

“I do deserve that. But, I’m not giving you to them, Jenna.”

“How thoughtful.”

“Berate me later. Hell, beat me later. For now, let’s concentrate on getting somewhere safe.”

“Where is it going to be safe? Angela, Stefania, and Paul have the master key! We’re just running around aimlessly until they catch us!”

“Which would be right about now…” The sneering female voice, thick with a Russian accent, sliced through her desperate lament.

Behind them fanned a five-strong army of women in various states of undress, so scant was their clothing. They would have been exquisite if not for the red streaks that marred them, bloody trails swathing the lower portions and dripping from chins. Vindictive eyes shot yellow daggers.

Five, Jenna thought numbly. How can I justify this as a good number?

“In here!” Jamie suddenly grabbed her, propelling her through a doorway and stumbling in after her.

They were in the hotel kitchen, Jenna duly observed. Then, impossibly fast, the quintet of bloody faced women was also in there, materialising right in front of them.

“Now, now, not so fast,” smirked the vampire in the middle of the arrowhead formation, her hair so brightly platinum that it looked to be shining in the gloom of the darkened kitchen. “Jamie, what are you playing at, you silly little boy? Reneging is not looked upon favourably.”

“I gave Viktoriya the others, Natalia,” Jamie said. “I gave the rest to all of you. But, I’m not letting you take Jenna.”

“You don’t decide,” Natalia snarled. In that moment, any hint of beauty vanished from her features as they shifted and became bestial, ruled by teeth and slavering jaws. “You cannot take one back for yourself.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Jamie said. “Forget the other stuff. Tell Viktoriya I’ll keep my memories of Nico, of everything. But Jenna comes with me.”

“You can keep your memories…for the next few seconds you have left with them.”

Jenna looked around and around, desperation and terror clawing at her more insistently than Cattabulous berating her for not feeding him on time. A block of knives was almost within her grasp, over atop a stainless steel bench.

Oh jeez. Six knives. Really? Six?

All five of the fanged fiends no longer even resembled humans. Their faces were aberrations, the sounds of bloodhunger issuing from their warped mouths, ugly and terrifying.

They closed in.

“Take me, then, but let her go!” Jamie abruptly flung himself at Natalia. Jenna lunged, grabbing at a knife handle, beating down the crippling fear inside her.

For his moderate build, Jamie was deceptively powerful, or at least fought with a strength borne of desperation. He managed to hurl Natalia to the kitchen floor and went for her eyes with his thumbs, gouging in with furious pressure.

Jenna almost vomited, watching this frantic act of violence, especially when blood began to well out around his thumbs. However, his momentary advantage was eclipsed. Largely ignoring Jenna, the remainder of the feral women surrounded Jamie. In the next couple of brutal bloody moments, Jenna discovered exactly what type of the four people bitten by vampires Jamie was.

He was one of those who died immediately, and in a drenching shower of red mist.

Jenna’s hand closed around the red handle of a handmade chef’s knife. One weapon in her hand, five in the block. That made better odds of the numbers in her head. She stabbed the nearest vamp, her body thrashing in the frenzy of gorging upon Jamie’s blood and draining his corpse. The keen blade punched in under the ribs.

This would-be victim merely turned around, plucking the weapon from her back with black claws, her face so blood-soaked that she looked as though she’d bathed in it.

“First thing you should know, stupid girl, is a lot of vampire lore is just that. Stories, misconceptions, folk tales that have been warped and carried down the line, like…how you say it? China whispers?”

Something whistled through the air, there was a violent meaty thump, and then the mocking vampire’s head tipped sideways and toppled off her neck, leaving a spout of blood jetting upwards.

“But decapitation works just fine, bitch,” said Angela, emerging behind the beheaded vamp wielding a giant cleaver. Beside her was Stefania, a barbecue fork in one hand and a spiked broken chair leg in the other.

Before Jenna could gather her thoughts, the newcomers attacked the other vamps still mutilating Jamie’s ravaged body, severing heads, stabbing and staking in an orgy of blood that bathed the kitchen in a hideous hue of red.

Overcoming her intense nausea and the need not to be swamped by the millions of germs she knew were rife in this grotesque dance, Jenna took a carving knife.

Wincing at the prospect, she joined the massacre.

* * *

As she stumbled away from the kitchen slaughter, Angela was a little disappointed to see that the deceased vampires didn’t burn away into ash, or explode, or anything like that. They merely lay cold and draining of blood like any other corpse. That was a bit of an anticlimax, but it lent credence to what the decapitated vamp said to Jenna about vamp lore.

“Is…is that it?” Jenna moaned, wanting desperately to find some body of water to plunge into and be rid of the blood saturating her. “Are they all dead?”

“Hardly,” Angela replied, “though some of the hotel staff are fighting back. As best they can.”

“This is hopeless! What chance have we got?”

“As good as any, if we can find Viktoriya and separate that bitch’s head from her body.”

“Why don’t we just find that place to hide and wait until sun up?”

“Tried that. Failed. They’re in our heads. Wherever we go, they know where to come. They only needed to have access granted to the hotel by somebody, and that was Jamie. Now they are free to get into our heads, manipulate, and play on our fears. However, I’ve had enough manipulation over my life to do me for good. I’m going to kill this bitch,” Angela swore resolutely. And if I get out of this, I’m killing Elena too. She’s the one who got me into this damn mess, convincing me to come on this fucking tour…

“This is the worst holiday ever,” Jenna moaned.

“Well, I’m not exactly having the time of my life yet, but in comparison with the rest of my life…” Angela let that statement just fade into a sea of uncomfortable silence.

A big muscular figure abruptly dropped from above, vaulting into their path.
“Surprise, bitches!” Barry grinned, his eyes flaring with amusement and malevolence. “You didn’t think I was going to let this tour go to hell without me sticking something in any one of you? Preferably all of you?”

He was amongst them in a flash, seizing Jenna in an iron grip, dancing back and away from the two weapon-wielding girls. His grinning mouth morphed into a gaping yawn ringed with prominent canine fangs and smaller sharp teeth.

“It’s a pity that it’s only teeth, but hey, that’s my favourite thing to stick into gals since this funny little change came over me.”

Then he clamped that hideous mouth over Jenna’s neck and punched his fangs in, dragging her backwards with him.

Angela and Stefania launched at him, and he released the hapless girl, flinging her towards them before retreating in a trail of eerie laughter. The limp body of Jenna landed against Angela, and they both fell. Stefania danced in a panic from foot to foot.

“Go after him!” Angela commanded. “I’ll catch up.”

As Angela cradled Jenna’s sagging figure, Stefania dashed off into the darkness. Jenna’s eyes flickered open, glinting yellow and then her mouth cracked open.

She sank her newly sprouting fangs into Angela’s arm.

* * *

“It doesn’t matter that you think you’re one of us, Barry. You will never be one of us. All you have done is morphed, but that doesn’t make you one of us. That just makes you a little more of a challenge for me, but ultimately you are still destined to die and I will feed upon your manhood.

“It’s a falsehood that morphed blood will kill us. It’s a little less nutritious than pure human blood, but it will do in a pinch. And, of course, all vamps are not one big happy family. We have enemies within our own race, and you, Barry, are one of mine.”

Okay. So it’s going to play out like that, is it? Queen Bitch Bite isn’t about to embrace me with open arms into the fold. Well, I’m down with a little vamp-on-vamp violence. I’m bigger and stronger, and I’m going to penetrate above and below simultaneously. Why should Paul be the only one to get a bit of this delicious Ruski?’

On the rooftop of the Derosso Grande, Barry and Viktoriya stared one another down, circling, metres apart, but gradually closing the distance, both of them lancing each other with fearsome, baleful eyes.

Both were completely undressed, shucking off their tattered remnants of clothing, exhibiting perfectly shaped bodies. Barry’s was a colourful muscular skin canvas, and Viktoriya’s alabaster to the point of glowing in the moonlight. For now, their visages remained in human form, albeit stained with blood.

“That would be a big mistake,” Barry ‘The Fang’ Nero sneered. “You don’t want to tangle with me. I may have only been a nightstalker for five minutes compared to your whatever hundred years, Sweet Cheeks, but I’ve got a nice grasp on it already. If anyone is going to die here, it won’t be me. I like this shit too much already to give it up just yet.”

“Dear naive Barry, there’s more to it than simple brute power and a new found desire to be the best. Quite simply, I am the best here, and I rule this town. Tonight, you die before you get any more opportunity to let this all go to your swollen head.”

“Sorry to break up your little party, but I have a correction to make,” rang out a voice from further down the rooftop, behind Barry. “Barry is mine.”

Out of the shadows of deckchairs alongside the pool stepped a figure, moonlight streaking across her face. Lucy stood resolutely, her shirt open and billowing behind her like an ethereal cape. Her hair streamed and gusted around her face, and her eyes glowed with unearthly menace. She smiled with her lips parted, and fangs glinted in the slight aperture.

“Barry gave me a little gift I never wanted, a non-refundable one. I came here with high hopes, and between you and him, you’ve cursed me. So, the honour of giving Barry a little payback belongs entirely to me.”

“As for you, bitch, I’m all about putting an end to your rule.” This came from Angela, approaching from behind Viktoriya. “You fucked up my holiday. Because of you, I had to chop Jenna’s head off with a cleaver. Things were really starting up here on this tour, and I can’t believe I was actually starting to enjoy myself. Then, because the boys can’t help being boys, we have to contend with your pack of neck-biting whores.”

Both Barry and Viktoriya reacted simultaneously, faces exploding into their feral animalistic forms, hissing threats erupting from them. They were quick, but they weren’t just dealing with simple human cattle any longer.

As Viktoriya lunged in a fluid motion that looked like a jet of water bursting from a high pressure hose, Stefania abruptly appeared, overturning the deck chair she’d been lurking under, and thrust her barbecue fork deep into Viktoriya’s gleaming naked left breast.

It wasn’t fatal, and it didn’t penetrate the vampire queen’s heart, but it wasn’t intended to. The purpose was a momentary distracting tactic, and as Viktoriya shrieked in annoyance and swatted Stefania away like a fly, sending her reeling down the length of the roof, Angela stepped in.

With a speed birthed by her newly cursed existence, Angela whipped out the cleaver from behind her back, the blade still dripping with ruby droplets of poor Jenna’s blood, and swung like the possessed woman she was. Viktoriya’s dismembered head flew in a bloody tangle of locks and astonished staring yellow eyes, splashing away into the pool.

Now Lucy advanced on Barry, who held up his hands.

“Hey, it’s all fun and games. Looks like we’re all on the same team now? Right?”

“Wrong,” Lucy retorted. “It’s my turn to stick something into you, if you catch my drift!”

Barry moved like a great colourful cat, but he was outnumbered and no longer the predator. He was the meat.

Angela buried the blade of the cleaver in his tattooed back, and Lucy brought out the item she’d shielded behind her back and flowing open shirt—the busted chair leg stake formerly toted by Stefania. The demon face on Barry’s torso saw it coming, but clawing furiously at the cleaver interred in his back, Barry didn’t.

He sure felt it though. The inhumane strength he had engendered in the formerly mild-mannered Lucy was used to thrust the wooden object right into his chest, ripping into his throbbing monster heart.

She released it, and the male vamp stumbled, took a few erratic steps away, and then pitched into the waters of the pool, floating alongside the staring eyes of Viktoriya’s severed head.

* * *

Just before sunrise, they surveyed the sprawl of mayhem littering the grounds of the hotel. The polizia would come and drag away the multiple corpses strewn throughout. They would burn them, destroy them, and sweep everything under the same huge blanket they brought out every time the Feral Hearts femme fatales went on a bender like this.

This time, though, it would be different for them and for everyone else associated with the Feral Hearts establishment. Derosso was now under the reign of new night dwelling empresses. Come nightfall, all these unwitting souls were going to learn what it was like to scream and to bleed.

After a lifetime of cruelty and manipulation by men and women alike, Angela Rollins was poised for a long reign of getting even.

Lucy Ricci came to Derosso with a vague fantasy of perhaps landing a man. Now she could have all the men she wanted…except they might not be too overjoyed to be on the receiving end of what she had to give them.

As for Stefania, the sole human remaining, her loyalty to Angela—and by proxy, Lucy—was unswerving and undying. In due course, her links with the Derosso Grande hotel would ensure that it became the stronghold for them all.

The hordes of twisted insane oddities set free by Viktoriya were left to their own devices, wandering the streets, another massive clean-up job for the constabulary to contend with. It may have been the end for Feral Hearts, with any few survivors of Viktoriya’s clan fleeing after the death of their queen, but there was a new regime now.

Cursed with perpetual vampiric rule, the town of Derosso was now the playground of two new entities, themselves cursed by an affliction they could never have predicted coming.

Chapter 16

Alternate Ending #6

There’s A New Sheriff In Town

catt dahman and Edward P. Cardillo

“Who is she? The woman?” Jenna asked.

“Viktoriya,” answered Barry. “She’s the one who…runs the joint? Whatever you call her…the madam or queen bitch…she’s the leader. She runs it all, and she’s mighty pissed off.”

“And you killed one of the strippers?” Lucy asked.

Paul glared at her. “Really? That’s the concern? Yes, we killed one. They aren’t strippers. They’re whores. They’re vampires. Vampiric whores.”

“Vampires?”

“They seduce men, bite them…see Barry’s neck? That’s a bite. See my neck? They drink blood. Those bitches have real fangs.”

Angela opened her mouth.

Paul shushed her with a motion. “And they are strong. You want to tell me it’s natural for them to bend iron like tin-foil, to move like the wind, and to control lunatics and not be vampires…well….”

Angela shrugged. “I wasn’t going to argue. I was going to say it’s pretty amazing that you two made it out alive. So, what do you all think Jamie is talking to the head vamp about down there?”

Jenna frowned. “She didn’t bite him.” In fact, although Jamie looked a little nervous and shifted his body several times, he didn’t look very afraid of Viktoriya, at least not afraid that he was in any immediate danger. The woman seemed to be explaining something to him, and each time he shook his head or looked reluctant, she leaned in closer to his face, baring her teeth.

Correction. She bared her fangs, wickedly sharp and delicately curved. Imagining those fangs biting into Barry’s neck was slightly nauseating.

“That’s impossible,” demanded Paul. “She was screaming every threat imaginable, punctuating every sentence with words like blood, balls, penis, throat, kill, and rip. She is one pissed off vampire, so why in the hell isn’t she ripping into his throat?”

“Do you want her to?” Angela asked.

“If it fills her up and she leaves me alone…ummm….sure,” Barry answered.

“You’re a real dick, Barry.”

“Thank you, Angela,” he snarled. “Does anyone have painkillers?”

“I have valium,” Jenna said. “Seventeen of them. I can spare two.”

“Waste of good drugs,” Angela said as Jenna handed Barry two pills that he dry swallowed.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “How come you two aren’t vampires?”

Barry and Paul stared at her.

Jenna put her pill bottle back in her pocket. “Because they weren’t drained and didn’t drink her blood. It takes all that, according to legends…or something like it. It looks like Barry just has is a bad bite. It’s not coagulating, so there must be something in their saliva that does that, but it does look infected already.”

Barry grabbed at his neck. “I’m infected? Does anyone have alcohol? Hydrogen peroxide? Ointment?”

Jenna sighed, went to the bathroom, and returned with a cotton ball she doused in alcohol. She handed it to Barry, waiting as he swabbed his neck, dancing in place and cursing. She handed him a little ointment on a swab. He jabbed at his neck, looking around for help, but no one wanted to help him swab his wound.

“We don’t want the germs, Barry,” Paul said.

“What about you, Paul?” accused Barry. “You’re bit, too.”

Paul gently touched the two holes on his neck. “Mine’s not so bad.”

“He’s coming back now,” Lucy said to the group. “That vampire went back into the shadows, and there’s a lot of crazy-looking men down there running around. They’re drooling and peeing everywhere. They’re worse than wild animals…oh my God…one dropped his pants and is….”

“Don’t tell me,” Jenna said, covering her ears and closing her eyes.

In a few minutes, Jamie turned and returned to the hotel while everyone waited silently, watching Barry for any sign of fangs.

Jamie was quickly outside the room, knocking on the door. “It’s me, guys. I can explain. Please, hear me out.”

Jenna opened the door for him and let him in, but everyone else glared with suspicion.

He expected it and was ready to face it. “I know you all think I’m a monster too, but I’m not. I’m scared, and I’m in a bad situation. I didn’t hide the fact that I went to talk to Viktoriya.”

“You’re right. We all saw you with her,” Paul said.

“I knew you would. You just all have to know what a bad spot I’m in. I’m scared.”

“Really? Don’t you think we all are? Look at Barry!” Paul yelled. “We saw you out there with them, man, and they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Are they really vampires?” Angela asked. “Barry and Paul say they are.”

Jamie nodded. “Yes, they are.”

“What do they want?” Lucy interrupted.

Jamie held a hand up. “Let me explain.” He sat down but then stood up again, pacing. He went to another chair, sat down and then stood again. He fidgeted as he tried to find his courage.

“My father and mother divorced a few years ago, and my father came here on a trip to see all of Italy. It was always his dream to do it, and it was the perfect chance. Unfortunately, when he came here, he was lured into Feral Hearts. That’s where he met Viktoriya.”

“That same chick?” gasped Angela.

“Yes. Viktoriya. She’s the one I was speaking with and she is…the most evil, cruel monster you can imagine. She laps up misery, fear, sadness, and despair like a cat drinking milk. She doesn’t want a true love or a partner. She wants a good time. For her, that is.

“She had her way with me, visiting me at night. She even took my girlfriend because she stood up to her. I thought that settled it, but Viktoriya wasn’t finished with her torment.

“My poor father…he became her plaything, her toy…her slave. Like all the other men that Viktoriya and her female friends have seduced, he went mad and was admitted into the sanitarium.”

“My God, Jamie. Your father?” Paul burst out.

“You knew, you selfish, cowardly bastard!” Angela didn’t have time for sympathy. He was the cause of this.

Jamie ignored her and spoke to Paul. “I came here, alone, to get him a few weeks ago. Viktoriya didn’t attack me because I was no threat to her, but she still tortured me, telling me that if I would do her beckoning, she would let my father go.

“I went to Feral Hearts to face them, and I had everything with me—crosses, garlic. It was a comedy of errors. I held up a cross, and Viktoriya said it was beautiful and snatched it away from me to wear.”

“What else did you try and how?” Jenna asked.

“I had garlic. One of those vampires ate it like it was candy.”

“This is Italy,” said Barry. When everyone glared at him for the interruption, he went back to silently nursing his wound.

Jamie continued. “So, then I tried holy water. They didn’t want it, but they sure didn’t fear it either. I splashed Viktoriya with it, and all she did was bitch at me for getting her hair wet.”

“Why did you come back?” Paul asked.

“I had to. I have to get my father out of here and back where he could be helped. That bitch took my girl; she’s not getting my father.”

Barry laughed shrilly. “Well, you have one less vampire bitch to deal with. I killed one of them.”

“How? How did you kill one?” Jamie queried.

“I bashed her head in, smashed it to a pulp, stabbed her in her heart, and ran like hell. I was already bitten, but I still killed the bitch, so there. Who is bad ass? Me…that’s who.”

“Who’s bitten? You…that’s who,” said Paul.

“Then they can be killed,” said Jenna. “That’s good. Was it the head smashing or the stake in the heart that did it? It would help to know.”

“We need to get out of here,” Paul interrupted her.

“We can’t leave here because they’re all over, down there, and they plan to attack. We can fight back,” Lucy said.

“Against an army?” Angela rolled her eyes. “A vampire army? What would they do to us anyway? I have no beef with them. They want Barry and Paul.”

“They’ll drink you dry and cut your heads off. The men, they’ll play with a while, and then send to the sanitarium,” said Jamie.

“Why did she allow you to come back to our rooms, Jamie?” Paul asked.

“I made a deal. I asked for something, and she agreed, for a price. She said that we could go free…me, Lucy, Stefania, Angela, and Jenna…if Barry and Paul come out and give themselves to her.” He toyed with a spot on his shoe, pretending to rub it away as he avoided eye contact.

It was fairly close to the truth. The vampires wanted one female, but it wasn’t something Jamie thought he should confess. At least the women had a chance now. All, except one.

“Oh, that is fucking brilliant,” Barry bellowed as he raised his head. “We go out and she tortures us, and you all go free? Just like that? Sure, sign me up.”

“Those are her terms,” Jamie said. “I am only the messenger. Do you think I like this? I don’t. I just want my father back.”

“You want him back, and Barry and I are just supposed to surrender to torture and insanity at the hands of demons,” said Paul. “If we refuse? Because we do refuse. No way in hell I’m giving myself to those bitches…those freaks. ”.

“Hey, those terms actually work for me,” Angela said. “It’s their fault this all happened anyway.”

Jamie eyed Paul gravely. “If you refuse, then she and her minions will attack, slaughtering the females and taking all the males who are in the hotel. Either way, she will get you and Barry. There’s no reason everyone has to die.”

For a minute, no one spoke, sorting the information. Jenna paced, counting each step she took. She watched as each person thought about the terms. Despite their individual quirks, they were all now in the same boat…except for Barry and Paul, that is. Eleven steps. Eleven back.

She looked up with a pensive, sardonic smile. “I spent a fortune to come meet a man and once again, an over-sexed bimbo gets in my way? I left Cattabulous for this? I’ll be damned if this slut is going to ruin my vacation and get in my way of meeting men. Doctor Ed would just be furious if I came this far to be killed by a freakin’ vampire.”

Everyone stared at her.

“For all I care, Barry, you and Paul can be delivered to those crazy women because you caused this problem. Had you controlled your urges, we wouldn’t be in this spot. Again…horny men ruin things!” Jenna was on a roll “And Jamie…you are worse than a coward. I trust you less than these other two assholes.”

“Hey!” Barry fumed. “At least I killed one and am not making deals with them.”

“We didn’t know. How were we supposed to know?” Paul demanded.

“Oh Paul, Stefania warned us,” said Lucy. “Yet, all you could do was drink and drop your drawers. I put all three of you on level ground. You’re all losers in my book.”

Barry got in Lucy’s face, spraying her with his spittle. “Listen here, you book worm, frigid bitch! Just because you keep your legs tied together doesn’t mean it’s healthy or normal. Didn’t you learn that in psychology class?”

Lucy’s palm made a crack against Barry’s face as she slapped him. He went red-faced, and his injury bled again. He had to get more gauze to staunch the bleeding.

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” Jamie said quietly.

“Oh, wow. Really, Jamie? Stuff sorry in a sack,” Jenna snapped.

“Oh, please,” said Angela. “You’ve been mooning over him since we got here. You have no sense at all about men. No wonder you’re still single.”

Jenna grabbed her tube of Blood Craze lipstick and brandished it. “That’s nasty. You have no idea how I feel. I’m not mooning now, am I?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Paul as he flopped into a chair and rubbed his temples. “I don’t know who’s worse…the lunatics outside or the ones in this room.”

“I’m just angry. I didn’t mean to start picking on you, Jenna,” said Angela, coming to her senses.

Before Jenna could answer, Stefania ran into the room. “A bunch of tourists just arrived, and there are vampires…those whores from Feral Hearts…all over the place and crazy people from the sanitarium. It’s pure chaos downstairs. The shutters are being closed, but those women and the insane men will break inside. Wait…what’s going on?”

“We were just clarifying that Barry and Paul should be real men, turn themselves over to Viktoriya, and save us all,” said Lucy.

“She lies. Don’t trust her,” said Stefania. “She will trick you, and she won’t keep her word. She is evil. Those women take the foolish men who can’t resist their charms, and they slaughter the women.”

Barry let loose with a stream of profanities.

“You knew what would happen?” Paul demanded, sitting upright.

Stefania shrugged. “I warned you all. I just didn’t expect this. What happened? How…are you bleeding, Barry?”

Lucy gave a fast overview, catching Stefania up. No one trusted Jamie; no one cared for Paul or Barry; Barry hated Lucy for the slap she gave him. In the room, they traded glares.

“You ate your M &M, Barry. What’s your big secret? You must have a good one,” Lucy said.

“I don’t have to tell anything.”

“You might as well, since your life is fucked anyway. Who knows? It might even make you seem human.”

“For fuck’s sake, “ Barry grumbled, “I was set to be married to a girl named Elise. I was in a tuxedo in the church, and there were so many guests that people stood in the back. There were flowers everywhere, and we each had seven attendants. It was a big wedding with a huge reception planned and then a honeymoon in the Bahamas. So the bridesmaids came down the aisle in these pink, fluffy dresses that Elise loved. The music began and I waited to see my bride…only….”

“She wasn’t there?” Stefania guessed aloud.

“She was there. She was beautiful, except she was crying. I mean, bawling all the way down the aisle. Maybe it was nerves or a bride thing. I didn’t know. As she cried she kept looking at my best man and I looked at him, and he’s got tears running down his face too. He took a step towards her and froze. My God, I knew right then.”

“Wow,” Paul said. “You’re a cuckold, mate.”

“Fuck you, Paul. I stormed out, and she fell to the floor, hysterical, and my best man ran to her. I wanted to beat the shit out of him and maybe her too, but I didn’t bother. They got married less than a month later.”

“Major rejection,” Lucy said. “Even I feel a little bad.”

“No shit. So there you go. I’m a loser who’s about to have my heart ripped out by yet another cruel bitch.”

Jamie sighed. “My girlfriend and I were going to be engaged. She left me a note saying she was too afraid to be alone and too afraid to trust anyone, but I knew those were Viktoriya’s words.”

“That’s rough,” said Jenna. “It wasn’t your fault, if you think that.”

Jamie sighed. “I just think I should have broken it off with Mary to save her from all this, but I was selfish. My father…I feel like if I walk away, I am failing again.”

“Sometimes we see the signs and still do the wrong things,” said Angela, shooting dirty looks at Barry and Paul. “Jamie, it’s your father, and that’s at least understandable, as opposed to men getting into shit because their pants keep falling off.”

“Here we go again,” Paul said. “Let’s go, Angela, right here….give me a good swing and pop….come on….”

A banging began downstairs, startling them. It was a steady beat against shuttered windows that sent shivers through the room. The lunatics outside began their assault.

Everyone dashed out of the room and descended the flights of carpeted stairs until they saw the lobby. There were maniacal faces pressed up against glass, pounding with bloodied fists.

The clerk from downstairs, eyes wide with terror, called to them in Italian. He made motions with his hands.

“What is he saying?” asked Lucy.

Stefania blinked as she translated. “The lunatics are free. Demons walk the night. We’re all dead. Mother of Mercy, we’re all dead.”

But Jenna, in abject horror and her mind on the brink of madness, heard something else as the man gesticulated wildly.

“A bus came in earlier. Jenna, there is someone downstairs asking for you, asking if you are here, and quite upset, he says. Do you have friends here?”

Jenna shook her head. “No. I don’t know anyone. Who is it?

“The clerk didn’t get a name with all that’s going on, but the man is demanding to see you.”

“There’s a mistake, because I don’t know anyone over here,” said Jenna.

Lucy looked quizzically at her friend. “Who are you talking to, Jenna?”

The noise continued but the hotel was strong and would hold for a while. She tried to force the images of the lunatics’ feral faces from her mind. She knew they had to get a plan together to fight back.

Jenna walked downstairs, counting carefully.

“Jenna, Honey, where are you going?” cried Lucy as she took off down the stairs after Jenna.

Jenna forgot her count a few stairs from the bottom as she saw a familiar face in the jumble of scared patrons. She leaped from the stairs, startling Lucy, and she ran, grabbing the visitor.

“Doctor Ed, oh my God. You’re here. It’s not safe to be here, but I’m so glad to see you.” She wrapped her arms around him in a death grip as he tried to get enough space to see if she were okay and to breathe.

Lucy looked at her friend in total disbelief.

Doctor Ed looked worried. “Jenna, there is something terrible about this place. I researched the travel group, and found that there’re many who go missing! I came at once to get you.

“This is not a safe place, and everyone is screaming and boarding up windows. What is happening here?”

Jenna chuckled. “I know. It’s a madhouse. You have to listen to me, and don’t scoff…Ed, there are vampires. Don’t laugh. Those people out there are the men they’ve driven insane. They’ve escaped from a sanitarium. The women have a club….”

“Feral Hearts. I know. I read an article about it. This is a horrible place, and I should have researched it before and never let you come here.”

“I said vampires.”

“I know.”

Jenna frowned, “Ummm. And you’re not telling me I’ve gone crazy?”

“Jenna, I might’ve told you I had concerns if you said there were zombies or something silly. Of course there are vampires, and you’ve run into a clan of them. I am well aware of them. I don’t just deal with regular issues. I’ve treated two slayers, and one…well…we aren’t talking about lycanthropy.”

Lucy called out to Jenna in the din and confusion. “Jenna, we have to run! Let’s go!”

Jenna nodded, grabbed Doctor Ed by the hand—it was warm and his grip strong—and she pulled him back towards the stairs. She quickly gave the Doctor an overview of the situation as she trailed behind Lucy, and he didn’t disbelieve her. Actually, he accepted the story at once. After all, he had flown over to save her from this place.

“Why didn’t I know this?” Jenna asked.

“Jenna, I don’t disclose my patient’s issues. I certainly don’t discuss my patients who are slayers with PTSD. That’s unprofessional. It’s irrelevant now. I received a phone call from one of them, good guy by the way, you’d know him since he’s in the movie and music industry and happened to play the role of a slayer…”

“You mean….”

“Don’t say a name,” Ed held a hand up. “But he called me and was concerned because there was word about something going on, and he isn’t mobilizing to handle this, over here, but he has friends who are. I knew this was serious and booked a flight at once.”

They followed Lucy and the gang around the stairs and back into the dining area.

“That was sweet.” Jenna smiled, gripping his hand tighter.

He noticed she wore lipstick and was composed, despite the hysteria of the other guests and the banging against the shutters. Despite the circumstances, she was the most self-assured and calmest he had ever seen her. He would have bet she would have been a trembling, pale, scared person, but she kept her head raised.

“But, now I’ve caused you to be in danger,” she sighed. It was her only worry now.

“Don’t even say such a thing. I came to save you, and I will. I’m not an idiot like the men on this trip…and it sounds like the women as well, with the exception of you two.”

“That’s Angela,” said Jenna, pointing ahead. “She thinks she’s tough.”

Ed went on. “Jenna, do you see all of these beautiful chandeliers? Some of those crystals are cut very slender and they come to a strong point. They could be taken and wired or tied to smaller table legs to make a lethal spear,” he called out above the din of voices. ”I think we should gather small table legs and break pool sticks in half. There are knives in the kitchen? Let’s tie and wire them on table legs and make spears.”

Jenna flushed. “Ed, did I ever tell you that you look like a young Robert DeNiro. I hope you can fight.”

Angela ran to the back with Lucy. “We can grab some knives!”

“Good idea!” said Lucy.

Jenna called out to Barry and Paul. “You guys, start smashing chairs. We need wooden stakes and spears.”

Barry looked at Paul in disbelief. “Look who suddenly woke up.”

“She’s right,” said Paul.”Let’s do it.” Barry needed no further invitation to smash stuff.

“Be careful,” Jenna called as Ed climbed up on the table and began to hand crystals down. Barry and Paul shook their heads as they slammed wooden chairs against the ground, thinking she was talking to them.

As Ed finished, he reached down and took Jenna’s hand to steady himself. For several long seconds, he gripped her hand tightly.

She dared to look at him. “I can’t believe you came this far to find me.” Her face was burning now. She had never felt embarrassed in front of him, but tonight she was very self-conscious.

“Me either, especially since you were there, in front of me the whole time.” He suddenly blushed, realizing they had said two different things with vastly different meanings. He busied himself in gathering the crystals and motioned to Angela and Lucy to hurry and join them.

The four of them ran back up the stairs, following Jenna. Paul and Barry followed with bundles of wooden stakes in their arms.

When they returned to the room, before Jenna could introduce Ed, they smelled something sickly sweet and nauseating. All heads turned to Barry.

“What?”

“You…smell funny.” Lucy wrinkled her nose.

Ed went to Barry, knelt, and carefully removed the gauze. He shook his head. “Get me some alcohol. No…hand me that rum. Just pour it onto a few tissues…that’s right…okay…this will hurt….”

To everyone’s surprise, Jenna scurried to gather the supplies, dousing tissues with rum.

“What’s this crazy bitch doing?” asked Barry.

“Cut it out, Barry,” said Lucy. “She’s coping the best she can.”

Before Barry could respond with some wise-assed remark, Jenna slapped the rum-soaked tissues onto his neck. Barry howled and jerked rigidly.

“Oh come on….”Angela began, but she stopped as they all looked at the wound.

It wasn’t a small nip anymore. At first, it was like a deep cut that bled profusely, never clotting, but now it looked as if a zombie had leaned in and snagged a huge chunk of skin and muscle and ripped it away. The original cut had opened up deeper and wider and leaked a lot of blood.

Worse than that—the edges of the wound, while spreading open, looked greyish yellow with bright red streaks. Along with the oozing blood, there was a great deal of something else—a thick, dark yellow slime boiled up from the injury, staining the gauze and Barry’s shirt.

Barry ripped the shirt off and had Paul grab a collarless shirt while he finished swabbing the bite. Doctor Ed had Jenna rip apart a sheet that she used to bind Barry’s neck.

Barry looked like he was going to snap at Jenna, but when he saw what she was doing, he let her finish. “Thank you,” he said tentatively, eyeing her cautiously.

“Don’t mention it.”

Doctor Ed shook his head. “That is comparable to an injury that’s several days old. It’s infected down into the muscle. He’s running a serious fever as well.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Barry,” said Paul, drinking straight from the bottle of rum.

Angela made a face, but handed over a glass for him to pour her a few shots. Stefania wiped the lip of the bottle and took several hefty swigs. Jamie held out a glass and Paul gave him a little.

“That would make a good Molotov cocktail,” Ed said.

“Now that’s a good drink,” said Paul. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“His name is Ed, and he’s my friend,” Jenna blurted out. “He was worried and came all the way over here to check on me.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Lucy.

“I think Jenna’s losing it,” said Jamie.

“You’re the traitor, right?” Ed snapped. “So, what is your great plan, now? How are you going to save your ass?”

“She can’t help it,” said Angela. “Leave her alone.”

“Well, she’s the only one who gets our situation,” said Jamie. “C’mon guys. We can’t fight these vampires with broken chair legs and…” he looked at the crystals that Jenna tossed on the bed, “pieces of chandelier. If I can convince you all to hand over Barry and Paul…then we’re all in good shape. Look…what’s his prognosis?” He pointed to Barry.

Doctor Ed frowned. “He’s very sick. He needs IV antibiotics immediately and topical antibiotics and maybe some surgical debriding of the infected flesh….”

“Do we have a surgical room all ready to go? A team of doctors? No?” said Jamie sarcastically. “He’s dead anyway, and we have vampires and lunatics beating at the doors promising a slow, grisly death if we don’t hand his half-dead ass over.”

Barry groaned.

Jamie nodded and held his glass out to Paul to give him another shot. “He’s dead either way, so why not let Viktoriya have him? Isn’t the safety of the whole more important that the whims of a single, dying man?”

“That’s cold,” Angela said as she wrapped a knife against a broken pool stick she had retrieved. She had three weapons ready.

“And what about me?” asked Paul. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly dying.”

Downstairs, there was screaming. There were shrieks and then the begging and pleading that ended in horrid slurping. The noises of running turned from bumps and thuds to sliding and silence.

Somehow, the lack of noise, the quiet, the emptiness, was far worse.

Paul silently crept to the door, listened, and dared to look out. He managed to see down the hall before closing the door again, locking it.

“They’re leaving,” Lucy said as she looked out the window. “All the men from the sanitarium, I see them leaving.” She saw all the men walk out of the building and stumble and lurch back towards the asylum as if summoned back to their nest. Each had injuries, from broken bones to deep cuts and gashes. All were blood drenched. A few crawled on their hands and knees.

Jamie crowded Lucy as he looked out the window, “There. That’s my father. Oh, thank God, he’s okay.”

“If you consider that okay.” Lucy addressed the group. “It’s over. We’re okay. They’re leaving, and we’re safe….” She stopped when she saw the others looking at her, “What? What is it?”

Paul wiped his mouth, stone-cold sober despite the rum. “Out there, there’s nothing but blood everywhere. It’s on the walls, the floors, and the ceilings. It’s like someone painted everything bright red. There are…pieces…pieces of flesh and goblets of fat. I saw an arm torn away. I saw a shoe with a foot still inside.”

“Paul….” Lucy began.

“There’s nothing human and alive out there now. But, you know what? I could hear them. All over, like a droning of hornets…it isn’t a buzz, but a constant noise from all over—a slurping, licking, smacking sound.”

“But…they’re going….” Lucy began again.

Jamie shook his head. “The men are going. Those are the puppets. But the women…Viktoriya…they are all downstairs feeding.”

Angela suddenly looked nervous. Her hands shook. “Throw Barry out. My God. We have to do something.” She held up her homemade spear and handed the rest over to her friends.

Doctor Ed turned to Jenna with an expression of urgency. “Jenna, I resign as your doctor, okay? I am not in a doctor-patient relationship with you anymore.” Ed took Jenna’s hand, “I meant to do this long ago but…it’s unethical and I can’t…but there are vampires coming for us, and we may not make it out of here alive, so I’m saying it, just in case. It’s wrong and I know better, but if we do survive, would you consider going out to dinner with me?”

Jenna leaned into him, savoring his strength and warmth. “It’s old fashioned and dorky, but Ed, I’d say if we make it out of this, I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

He grinned. “Well, the singles trip did find you the perfect match after all…just in a weird way.” He leaned in for a deep kiss that sent his adrenaline flowing and wetness into her nether regions.

Lucy watched her friend, concerned. Poor Jenna. She noticed the others watching Jenna nervously and knew it would only be a matter of time before they turned on her.

Lucy was about to speak to Jenna and express her concern, but she was interrupted by a loud crash from the hallway.

Down the hall, maybe two doors down, a door was bashed in, broken into a hundred splinters. Glass shattered. A woman screamed. A man yelled and then gurgled. Suddenly, the scream stopped.

All was silent again.

“Don’t they get…full?” Angela asked.

“They’re insatiable,” said Jamie.

There was noise in the room next to them, and then silence again.

“Okay, weapons ready,” said Angela as everyone picked up their makeshift stakes and spears. Death would be knocking on their door, finding them ready. “If we’re going down, we’re going down swinging.”

Everyone nodded their silent agreement. The time to hand over Barry and Paul had passed. They, as a group, had made their choice, and there was no time for regrets. Shit was about to get real.

Ed dared to get closer to the door where he tried to listen for movement. Nothing. With no warning, the heavy door burst into the room, splintering and flying off its hinges, slamming into Ed. It was like being hit with a solid hundred-pound weight, and Ed went down, knocked unconscious by the force.

Jenna cried out in a shower of splinters.

The woman who stood in the doorway, her pretty head slightly cocked, was a blonde. Her hair fell in shining, thick curls to her waist, and her face looked classically sculpted. Her figure was curvaceous, but slender with a full bosom encased in a pretty violet bustier, and wide, generous hips in tiny shorts. Although her eyes seemed to burn and glow, she was a beautiful woman if one ignored the gore. Bits of flesh stuck to her bare legs and shoulders, and blood caked her hair, plastering some of it to her skull.

She licked her red, bloody lips.

For all her intelligence and strength, Lucy made a sound that was like “Eeeep.”

The woman glanced to her left where Lucy stood close to Ed, who was covered in the remains of the big door. It was all Angela needed. Like an arrow shot from a bow, she raced across the room, spear held chest-high, and used her weight and momentum to plunge the knife-tipped spear into the woman’s heart.

Only she missed.

Angela lost her balance and collided with the vampire, who quickly cast her off with a swipe of her clawed hand. Moving as one, the group charged the demon, spears raised, swiping and jabbing, cursing wildly.

The vampire crumpled under the weight of the small throng as Paul and Angela stabbed wildly at any part of the vampire that was exposed. The woman hissed at them, craning her neck for a bite, but in the disorganized heap her teeth found no purchase.

“Hold her hands down!” Angela pushed herself up off the heap, rolled Jenna off the top of the woman, and lined her sharpened wooden chair leg up with her heart. She allowed herself to fall back down, driving the stake into her chest with all of her weight while Paul and Lucy held her wrists down against the carpeted floor. Stefania pressed down on the vampire’s forehead, forcing her head against the floor as the she hissed and spit.

The vampire let out a horrid shriek as the wood slid into her black heart. Just as legend dictated, the woman’s face took on wrinkles, her hair began to go grey and then white, and she grew smaller, less curvy, and she quickly looked to be centuries old.

In seconds, the hell bitch was no more than dust.

Everyone began to untangle and helped each other to their feet, dusting themselves off. Paul was spitting and coughing, trying to get the ashes out of his mouth.

“The heart,” Angela said. “Just like in the movies.”

“That was amazing,” gasped Jenna as she checked Ed, finding he was still unconscious, but breathing well and unharmed but for a few bruises. “You made it look easy.”

Angela shrugged. “Women are stronger than we think. Grab your spears and go for the heart when they come in.” She retreated, waiting, like a big cat, watching for her prey to arrive.

“Barry is bad off,” Paul said, looking at his friend. The infection soaked the bandages and smelled worse. Without asking for opinions, Paul grabbed Barry’s feet and dragged him off the bed with a loud thud. Barry’s head bounced but he didn’t make a sound; he was too far gone. Turning around, he pushed Barry out of the room. Jamie helped, and the two of them shoved most of Barry out into the hallway.

“Be ready,” Jamie said, as he took his spear. “There’ll be more.”

There was no sound, but quick as a wink, Barry’s body vanished, yanked into the hallway and taken.

Everyone jumped back.

“Jamieeeee,” a sultry voice called. It was like the moaning of the wind, a whisper that filled the room, a tone that made their teeth ache. “Jamie, darlinggggg…you owe me one more man…the handsome devil….Paulllll, and you owe me a female…and now for taking Cristobelle’s life…you owe me more. Give me what I desire, and I shall let the rest go freeeee.”

Paul clutched his stake and shook his head. “Jesus, with that tally who’s left?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, this bitch isn’t going to let any of us go. She never was,” Angela yelled.

“I’m coming, Jamieeeee.”

“What does she mean about a female? And I can tell you straight up, she is not getting Ed,” Jenna shouted at Jamie.

“Who the fuck is Ed?” demanded Paul. “You’re fucking batty. Maybe we should hand you over.”

Jamie shook his head, looking defeated. “Angela’s right. She wanted Barry, Paul, and one female. And now…more. She’s restocking her army as we kill them off.”

“Look…you killed this…Cristobelle, Angela…so I nominate you to be the female.” Stefania crossed her arms.

“I’m not going, so you can forget that deal. I’ll stay and fight,” Paul said. He hefted the spear and practiced a few lunges. “This is your tour, Stefania. Maybe you should go, oh fearless leader. Take one for the team.”

“Shut up,” Angela snapped.

Jamie raised his spear. “Didn’t you hear me? There’s no deal. There never was.”

Angela nodded. “He’s right. You’re idiots for listening to her bullshit. She’s a liar. She wants you to fight each other. You’re making her job a whole lot easier.”

“She gets off on it, like a cat toying with a mouse before she consumes it,” said Jamie.

“So what do we do?” asked Stefania.

“We fight,” said Lucy.

A beautiful redhead, her hair cut short on the sides but long down her back in a V shape appeared silently in the doorway. Her breasts almost burst from her tiny halter top, and her skirt was a mere band of fabric. Paul cursed his erection, even as he watched her move delicately into the room. They all backed away like little fish steering clear of a great white.

A very young girl, elfish with huge, hungry black eyes, joined the other woman. Her tight, white dress was gore-splattered. Yet another woman glided in. Dressed in a bloody pair of shorts, she wore no blouse and her breasts were slick and coated in red. She gleamed and writhed as the sticky blood itched.

“Go!” Angela yelled, as she turned away from Jenna, raised her spear, and ran at the vampires. Paul and Jamie followed, and Jenna and Lucy went after the elfin girl, both carefully aiming.

The vampires didn’t meet the spears, but evaporated into the air as the tourists spilled into the hallway. Laughter echoed off the walls.

“Jesus!” cried Paul, eyes wide as he looked down the hallway.

There were fanged women crawling on the walls and ceiling like bats gripping the jagged walls of a cave with sharp claws.

They all turned to run in the other direction, but Viktoriya was standing there, arms outstretched, claws extended, blocking the way.

The demon horde swarmed and descended upon the group like a plague of hornets, sinking their fangs into Lucy, Angela, Stefania, and Jenna. It all happened so quickly that none of the girls had any time to react.

Viktorya sliced Paul’s head off with one clean sweep of a clawed hand. She grabbed the open neck, pulling him close, and sank her face into the severed neck erupting with blood like a volcano of gore.

“Jesus, Lucy, it hurts,” gasped Angela, her tough veneer stripped away.

“I’m so sorry,” sobbed Stefania. “I’m so sorry.”

Jenna went limp under the multiple sets of fangs penetrating her skin, the will to live slipping away from her slowly with every gulp of her blood.

Something moving behind Viktoriya caught her attention. “Lucy, do you see it?”

Lucy waved a weak hand in Jenna’s direction. “It’s okay, Jenna. It’s okay.”

“No, really, you don’t see him?” pressed Jenna in a whimper.

Viktoriya dropped the headless body of what was once Paul. “Pity you’ve already gone mad, my dear. I don’t allow that in the ranks of my daughters. You’ll have to be locked up with the other lunatics.”

Jenna smiled knowingly. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you turn around and we’ll see who’s crazy, you bitch.”

Viktoriya suddenly looked startled and turned around, as if she sensed what Jenna was talking about. There stood none other than Doctor Ed, in the flesh, beaming with anger.

“You get your hands off of Jenna! She’s mine!”

Doctor Ed gave her a hearty shove, throwing all of his weight into the vampire, catching her off guard. By the look on Viktoriya’s face, it appeared as if she’d seen a ghost.

He shoved her and she stumbled backwards, lashing out with clawed hands. Jenna, still holding her spear, summoned the strength to lift the point up as Viktoriya ran right into her, impaling herself on it.

Lucy, Angela, and Stefania looked on in utter disbelief as the expression on Viktoriya’s face went from annoyance to panic. She clutched the spear sticking into her chest, penetrating her heart, and let out an unholy yelp that shook the hotel.

Reflexively, the other vampires released the girls and they collapsed to the carpet in crumpled heaps. Jenna held onto the spear, using Viktoriya to keep her up.

Jenna pulled herself towards Viktoriya until they were face-to-face. “There’s a new sheriff in town, bitch.”

Viktoriya began to convulse, and her eyes bulged out of her skull until her head exploded like a melon hit by a bullet. Jenna thrust her face into Viktoriya's bleeding stump, sucking down the demon whore’s black, syrupy blood.

“Holy shit,” muttered Lucy on the floor as she inched her hand over to Angela’s and held it.

Jenna finally came up for air, her face covered in blood and her eyes wild. She looked more animal than human. “Kneel!”

The entire vampire swarm, who were clutching each other as they watched their mother die, collectively took a knee before their new master. It all happened so fast that they were barely able to process it all, but they supplicated themselves nonetheless.

By vampire law, a new queen had arisen, and they were compelled to swear their allegiance. With Doctor Ed’s help and her quick thinking, Jenna had left the neurosis, the hypochondriasis, and the awkwardness behind.

Jenna blossomed into a beautiful predator, a mother of death, and queen mother of the undead. She had cosplayed this character many times before, but now she got to be this horribly beautiful creature.

Things would never be the same for her again.

* * *

“You understand what that means, right? I mean, face it, girls, we won the battle and we survived. But each of us is bitten, and don’t tell me you don’t feel the strength and power flowing through your veins.”

“Don’t even say it, Angela….” Lucy warned.

“We’re vampires. I wish I could look in a mirror. We don’t have reflections now, but I can see you. Jenna, you’re gorgeous. I mean knock-out, super-model gorgeous. Your hair…wow. Once you wash it…and Lucy…seriously…you are like the most beautiful woman on earth. You’ve changed,” Angela said.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “I was just thinking about how you look, Angela. The hard lines are gone and your eyes are bigger and softer. You’ve changed, too. This is because…are we…I mean…what if….”

“Hey…Ed…he’s waking up!” Jenna crawled over to Ed and tended to the lump on his head, filling him in as he regained his senses.

Lucy and Angela watched their new queen as she tended to an apparition that wasn’t actually there. Poor, crazy Jenna. Although they each knew what they saw standing behind Viktoriya in that brief moment, neither could explain it. One minute there was a man pushing Viktoriya into Jenna’s spear, the next he was vanished.

Jamie groaned.

“Jenna…Jamie is still alive. He was unconscious. I’m still really pissed off at him for what he did,” Angela said as she stroked Jamie’s head softly.

He stared up at her with terror in his eyes.

Jenna smiled. “Have at him. Things have changed, and he really does wish to be reunited with his father.”

Angela grinned, showing beautiful pearl-white fangs, delicate and sharp teeth that she wanted to learn to use properly. “Lucy? Care to share?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Lucy returned the grin.

Jamie screamed a long time as the new vampires learned the art of bloodlust.

* * *

Jenna yawned and stretched her arms, moving like a big cat as she slinked across her big, soft bed, sliding over its black, silk sheets and thick, warm quilts. She felt lazy, languid, and very pleased with herself. All in all, her vacation had taken a strange turn and life would never be the same, but then, who would want it to be as before? She had gotten everything she wanted, after all.

Cattabulous meowed happily from his corner of the bed where he was curled into a ball, sleeping after having patrolled his domain, marking a few corners, and chasing a couple of mice who’d peeked at him. He’d catch them at his leisure, because he had all the time in the world now. His mistress, Jenna, might be the queen, but in his world, Cattabulous was the Emperor.

Ed, kind and thoughtful as always, was conscientious and gave his cases to competent doctors. He said farewell to a few colleagues. He brought beautiful, adorable Cattabulous over from the United States so they could all be together. Ed was thoughtful that way. Actually, he and the cat were fast friends, and Cattabulous enjoyed sitting in Ed’s lap before a warm fire on lazy, slow evenings.

This evening was one of those calm nights.

Lucy was downstairs, and unlike those who came before, didn’t depend on tradition or lore. Instead, she trained the few women who worked at Feral Hearts in the art of being smart as well as gorgeous. She taught a few simple defensive moves to ensure protection, and she taught the sisters how to know an easy mark as compared to one who might…just might fight back. She even had a funny term for those who might cause them trouble and warned all the women to avoid any man who might be a Barry.

Lucy had decided that she didn’t need one man to be her life partner, but that there was a whole world of love. She wanted to sample it before, and if, she decided to settle down. She was so beautiful and intoxicating that she had no trouble finding men for weeks or months of companionship. Of course, the break-ups were a little discomfiting for the men.

Angela was also happy in her new life. She was sweet on one of the local men, who perhaps feared her a little, but was also taken by her beauty and kindness. He followed her around like a puppy begging favors, and Angela liked that. Her stories made Jenna laugh, if nothing else. She had changed the most, softened, and she stayed high on her power and control. It was better than a drug, and she was happily addicted.

“Here’s a bite for you,” Ed tempted Cattabulous with a crystal dish of liver, origins best not described.

“You’re spoiling him,” Jenna laughed, but she only smiled as Catttabulous leapt from the bed to the carpet and feasted on the delicacy.

“Lucy got it for him. You know she dotes on him,” said Ed. He didn’t add that they all did. Jenna knew how they all adored her cat.

Ed plumped up his feather pillows and lay next to Jenna, kicking off his shoes and wiggling his toes. He didn’t complain because he enjoyed his new job immensely, and he was fantastic at it. Anyone could organize a singles’ trip. Anyone could set up a lonely hearts travel vacation, but only Ed was truly qualified enough to set it up so the right people came.

He usually had three trips going at once, ten people on each, and of those, usually eight or nine returned home with a serious love interest. Sometimes all ten found love. It was simply reshuffling a deck, moving the cards around a little, and everyone found what he or she wanted. In fact, many were now married, engaged, or about to be one or the other. Everyone was happy on the trips he set up.

Except for the one or two in every few trips.

Ed considered that to be negligible. What was a few people in the grand scheme of life? They were people who could be written off anyway as they had no redeeming qualities, no attainable goals, no real value.

They were the leeches on society. They were Barrys. Male or female, there were plenty of Barrys to go around. In fact, Ed had already planned a whole group of Barrys just to celebrate their one year in Derosso. Angela and Lucy would be thrilled with the smorgasbord of flesh-failure.

Jenna smiled at Ed. Since her ascent to power, their love-making sessions were the stuff of legend. They had time to enjoy everything as it was, but in time, she would help Ed join them as the first man in their ranks, a true king. There were too many possibilities to be hasty.

“Oh, Ed.”

“Active tonight, huh?”

“Very. I can’t wait. So many possibilities….”

Ed grinned. “And none of them frighten you.”

“Not a single one. It’s too exciting,” Jenna gushed. Her eyes were bright with happiness, and she almost purred. “So, tell me about this trip of misfits you have planned to surprise the girls.”

Ed grinned wider. “There were five. Then ten signed up. Fifteen. Now twenty.” He gently reached over so he could feel Jenna’s huge, swollen belly, anticipating the birth of their first child, a baby who would be the first hybrid. A new species, actually. Love for Jenna and the baby filled him, but he shook off his sappy mood and continued, knowing Jenna loved the counting, “Twenty five. Thirty.”

Fifty would be the final number. Fifty would be the feast.

Forty would be his age when he joined Jenna in eternal life.

His children would number fifteen. Jenna adored fives.

Five would be the centuries they reigned.

No one wondered about those who vanished after a singles trip. It was as if they’d never existed, and locals both feared the place and were fascinated with it. Those who knew the truth were in the sanitarium, quite insane and uncaring.

However, there was a single person there in the asylum, one who knew, who remembered, and who watched with fury and agony blistering his soul. That was Jamie.

And he was only one.

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