Taste of Blood - Part One

"Hey honey, do you want a date?" I spoke to the man in the car which just pulled up next to me. My feet hurt from clattering down the street on high heels and I was cold from wearing a mini-dress which was little more than glorified underwear. It was cold as the weather headed into the fall. I was just likely that it had not rained tonight. Then I would be shivering. It could be extremely wet at this time of year. Actually it was always wet here but fall and winter seemed especially bad to me. I did not know how the real street walkers did this day after day, dressed in little clothing with a few pieces of cheap sparkling jewelry.

I was not one of them. I was a police officer. Officer Emily Rose, Seattle Police Department. I think that I always wanted to be a police officer. It gave me a sense of control which I never had as a child. Still there were duties I hated. One such was acting as a police decoy but someone has to do it. Being fairly attractive meant that I was often assigned to such jobs. There were few female officers on the job and many simply could not dress for the part and walk the walk. Many just appeared to be police officers. Too dominant.

From the depths of his car, a grey BMW sedan, the man mumbled, "How much, skinny white girl?" From what I could see, he was a huge man, black of course. Not that White or Hispanic did not proposition me as well but generally only Blacks called me 'White Girl.' From what I could see, he probably topped two-fifty maybe even three hundred pounds.

It was not that skinny white girl was inaccurate either. I stand five feet ten inches tall and have a runners body. I try to run at least five miles every day and have ran in several marathons. I am by far the fastest female officer on the force and there in probably only a couple of male officers. Both the ones I know are on SWAT. I had been trying to get on the SWAT team for the last few years. There is only a handful of women in SWAT teams across the country and it was my goal to become on of them. I was working on strength training but still was not up to my goals. I did not want them to change the standard for women but to pass the full standard myself, to prove that I was one of the best.

"How much for what?" I asked

"Forty for sex, everything." he responded. This was pathetic, forty or even twenty for sex. Of course many women out here would do it for that amount of money. Truthfully, I thought it better to be decriminalized. The women working these mean streets could be protected that way and they could be checked for AIDS so they would not transfer it to others. Many of the men had wives who did not know that their husbands picked up hookers. Of course my opinion is not popular to most cops, especially female officers, so I keep it to myself.

"Come on," I whined, "You got here a BMW and all you want to offer is forty?"

He pulled out a small bag, "How about some of this?" From what I could see, the bag contained crystals of some kind. Crystal Meth! Many of the girls on the streets were addicted to one drug or another. Meth, Crack, and even Heroin. I did not really enjoy arresting men for just looking for a woman on the streets but I enjoyed getting drug dealers like this one off the streets.

I responded, "Okay, pull around back. I have a room in that hotel." I turned and walked towards the hotel. You did not want to get into the car with them because they might try and drive you to where you did not want to go. This was Seattle after all. Ever heard of the Green River Killer or Ted Bundy.

I met him in the parking lot and motioned toward a room. I strutted just slightly as I walked towards the room. As he walked behind me, I unlocked the door to the motel room. As soon as he stepped inside, the officers waiting in the hotel room jumped out and grabbed him. There were officers always watching me, both when I was on the streets and more officers inside the hotel room.

I told the officers, "He has Meth." and headed back outside to act as bait for the trap. While I had managed to get several dozen "Johns," the slang term for men who try and pick up prostitutes, including a couple who were dealing drugs, my real reason was to catch a serial killer. Yes, Seattle appeared to have another one. Like the others he preyed on prostitutes. They were available and many people considered them to be throwaway.

This latest series of crimes were baffling. There had been series of rapes and murders where the bodies were left in the open to be found easily once the sun rose. Always out of the way where no-one would look during the night but obvious once the sun rose. Never in the same place either. Each of the killer's victims were found with all of their blood drained with both of their wrists slashed almost to the bone. The first murder was at first considered to be a suicide but no blade had been found near any of the bodies. The coroner had stated that the blade was as sharp as a surgical blade. Each of the bodies had definite signs of sexual penetration just before death. Each body had been checked for the murder's DNA but nothing had been found. They had checked every one and the bodies where too fresh for the biological materials to have degraded. Searches for hairs had come up empty as well. None of it made sense. What was even more puzzling was the fact that each of the faces had a look of pleasure from when she died.

I really wanted to catch the sick bastard that was doing it. I really did not want to arrest him but put a single forty caliber round into his brain. Life in prison was simply too good for something like that. We are often told that vengeance is wrong but I disagree.

The rest of the night passed slowly with a number of additional arrests but no sign of the killer. At around three in the morning, the women working the streets began drifting away. I guess some lived in the cheap hotels around here. I wished them luck to be honest, they were more to be pitied than scorned in my opinion. Many were from broken homes, addicted to drugs, or just generally abused.

As usual, some of the prostitutes appeared entirely too young. Both boys and girls walked the streets, some that I guessed were as young as ten. They were gone before I could do anything. I tried to get them off the streets when I could. The only thing you can do is try and talk to them to get them into child protective services.

There are few people I hate more than pedophiles. My father began to teach me to be mommy when I was around ten. I was born in Utah, the daughter of a fundamentalist Mormon father. The group which he belonged to is not accepted by the mainstream Mormon church. He believed that the only way a man could enter the kingdom of heaven was to have as many wives as he could and produce as many children as possible. He also believed that his daughters should be taught by him to become wives. I was twelve when I was to have been married to my own uncle before I ran away. He already had three other wives, all close relations as well. I do not know where I would have ended up if a kindly police officer had not found me hiding in an alley. I might have ended up a child prostitute myself. It was then that I had decided that I wanted to be a police officer myself.

I was glad that the night was finally over. The high heels I was wearing hurt even more miserably than before. It looked like rain was coming after all. I wished I never had to say the words, "Hey Honey, Do you want a date," again but I would probably be out here against tomorrow night. It was just a few steps and I could get into the undercover van which was waiting for me and be off.

Then it happened. One moment I was walking slowly toward the undercover van, the next moment a man's eyes locked into mine. It was a white man and the eyes were a piercing blue but I could tell little more than that. I could not look away and my legs felt rubbery. I felt myself collapsing. I literally had no will to fight. I felt arms wrap around me and I tried to fight back but could not even move. I could not even yell out. Where was my backup. They probably already left to get donuts or something. Those same arms tossed me on his shoulders and I could remember no more.

When I woke up, I found myself lying on something extremely hard. If I thought I was cold before, I was now shivering uncontrollably. It was dark but I could see starlight out from out a door which appeared to have bars on it. I felt where I was laying and it was polished stone of some kind. My vision slowly adjusted to my surroundings. I was in a crypt of some kind. I was laying on top of someone's tomb. There appeared to be dead leaves on the floor of the tomb.

I pushed myself up and slowly remembered what had happened to me. I had been kidnaped with about a half a dozen other police officers surrounding me. Because of the nature of working as a decoy, I was unarmed. I never wished for my pistol as much as I did now. The serial killer had me. It could be no one else it could be. I prayed that many some of the other officers managed to follow me but I had little hope of that.

Suddenly, I felt a presence in the crypt. Movement caught my eyes as a figure walked towards me, virtually invisible in the darkness. The figure was tall and appeared to be male from what I thought I could half perceive. The figure stepped half into the moonlight. He was a Caucasian male and he appeared to be fairly handsome. The man was clean shaven and he was dressed in some kind of dark clothing. From the movement, it seemed likely that he was wearing a trench coat.

His penetrating eyes locked with mine and in a strong voice, he spoke, "Hello there. Don't worry." The voice seemed to enter the depths of my soul. I fought a strange calming effect of his voice. Men do not just kidnap women and take them to a tomb when they mean no harm. His voice should not effect me this way. Hypnosis did not work this way. Police training had taught me this. Maybe he had injected with some kind of drug. Still, I knew of no drug which would make me be under the control of another like this.

"Now, if you would please, take off your cloths." he instructed me in that strong voice with his blue eyes still locked onto mine. The darkness in the crypt robbed me of my color vision but his eyes were extremely dark, whatever color they were. I tried fighting with all my will but it did no good at all. To my horror, I found my hands going towards the back of the mini-skirt and unzipping it. This was impossible. My hands then moved to the skimpy blouse I had been wearing in my role as a street walker. Knowing what was going on did no good at all. It was like I was a passenger in my own body.

I was a police officers who could hold my own against almost any other police officer on the force. I was not some whore with no will of my own due to drugs. I kept trying to tell myself that and fought whatever was controlling me. Still, I found myself continuing to undress. I felt whatever was in my mind trying to subvert my will and I knew that most prostitutes would fall for him willingly.

It just took a few minutes and I was sitting on the stone tomb completely naked. If I thought I was cold before, I felt like I was frozen solid now with the cold almost burning inside. I don't remember ever feeling that cold before. Even if he didn't touch me, I would soon begin suffering from hypothermia.

During the entire time I had been undressing, he had not broken eye contact with me. He spoke again, "You are a stubborn one. I have had felt few ladies resist me this strongly." With that, I saw the glimpse of long canine teeth like I had seen in Dracula movies. I had heard stories of people getting special dental work to have teeth like that. The serial killer known as the "Night Stalker" had thought he was a vampire. This man had just gone to the next step and gotten dental implants of vampire teeth.

He paused for a few seconds before commanding me, "If you would please lay down." I found myself laying on the stone coffin. It was shockingly cold on my back even as cold as I already was. He grabbed my wrists and I heard the whisper of a blade being pulled from a sheath. Fighting with all my will, I tried to kick him in the groin. Maybe I could escape and find help. I even tried screaming and could even find the strength to do that.

I felt something cold and hard against my wrists. At first the cut did not even hurt, the blade was that sharp. I could see my blood dripping down my wrists and the pain hit me. It was a bone deep pain and I could not use my hands. My life was draining away from me and I could not fight it in any way. Slowly, he brought my wrists up to his mouth and began drinking. There was something more, like he was pulling the very life force from my body as he did it. At the moment I knew he was something more than just a serial killer who had a vampire fetish. He was a real vampire!

There was the sound of a zipper opening and then he entered me. There was nothing pleasurable about it. I had been raped by my father starting at age ten and there is nothing enjoyable about it. This was no different. It was rape even though my body was under his control, my mind was not in it. Probably more prostitutes would have completely surrendered by now. I did not know why but I kept fighting. While there is life, there is hope. If only I could claw him or bite him, something to hurt him. Maybe I could crawl out and someone would find me. Still, I could feel waves of weakness flowing though my body and it became harder and harder to concentrate. My body was going into shock from the blood loss, helped by the cold.

Dimly, I felt him let go of my hands and they fell to the cold stone of the tomb I was laying on. I could not move them at all and the cold was only distantly felt as well. He finished and pull out of me. In all likelihood, I only had a few minutes to live. Finally, he broke eye contact with me. Obviously, he felt that a woman almost completely drained of blood and unable to move was no longer a threat.

Distantly, I heard him say "Goodby, my love." He bent over me and he kissed my lips. I don't know why he did that but with his eyes no longer boring into mine, I could finally react. Adrenaline flooded my body in a last ditch effort to try and save myself. I bit his lower lip with all the force I had and blood suddenly flowed into my mouth. If it was my blood or his blood, I don't know. The thought was strange in the fact that I was dying. At the same time, my knee went up into his groin. I could genuine pain and surprise in his face and suddenly he was gone. It was like one moment he was there and then a few seconds later he just vanished.

Maybe I could use my cloths to wrap the wounds and crawl out of here. I rolled off the stone slab and landed in the dead leaves. It took all my strength to do just that. I could not even crawl to where my cloths were. I could feel everything fading out. I was dying. Suddenly, everything went dark.

Ever since I had been a little girl, I had been afraid of enclosed spaces. It was likely because my father would lock me in a dark closest often he had beat me for something I had done, real or imagined. It was something I tried to hide from all those around me including, and maybe especially, the other officers who I worked with. Some had cruel senses of humor. I woke laying in what felt like a box, enclose space, completely dark. I could barely move, the box which I was in was not much larger than I was. I was still completely naked and it felt like I was laying on some kind of metal.

I felt cold but it was a different kind of cold than what I had felt in the stone crypt. There is no real way of describing how I felt but I was no longer shivering. Combined with it was a kind of thirst which I had never felt before. It is said that diabetics feel a thirst which no amount of drinking will satisfy. This was something akin to that yet different at the same time.

Panic took over and I began pounding on the walls of the metal box. I was desperate to get out of here. It was the closest thing to being in hell. While I could get little leverage, I could the metal dent out where I struck at it. If I could get a bit more leverage, I might have been able to break through the metal wall. The incredible racket I was making hurt my ears. Maybe someone would here my pounding and get me out of here. I began screaming, "Let Me Out!" at the top of my lungs. Rage and fear took over completely. I was so desperate that I was no longer even thinking and my screams became wordless.

Suddenly I heard a voice saying, "What the hell is going on here." While muffled by the walls of the box I was in, I could hear the voice quite clearly. It was a high pitched voice often mistaken for a woman's voice but was a man. It was Stanley Marshall, the night security guard who worked at the city morgue. At night, often he was the only one at the morgue. I had been to the morgue many times, either to deliver bodies or check on a body. Almost forty years old and a little bit overweight, I had heard that he had not missed a day of work in over five years. His uniforms were often a bit slovenly but he always had the paperwork ready when I brought a body to the morgue. Still, I had felt sorry for him when I had seen him. Suddenly it hit me, I was in one of stainless steel drawers in the morgue. Dead bodies were on either side of me with only the stainless steel walls between me and them, increasing my panic even more.

He stated, "Someone is playing a joke of one of us. Calm down. Just wait a moment and I will get you out." He was trying to keep his voice as calm as possible but I could hear an edge of terror in his voice. In the midst of a panic attack, I could do nothing to calm down. I don't think I had ever had a panic attack as I was having. Even while screaming and pounding on the walls of the morgue drawer, I could hear foot steps coming towards where I was trapped.

A few moments, I heard the sound of a drawer being opened. It took him several tries before he found the one which I was in. Light suddenly appeared and I could see the matt shine of the stainless steel drawer I had been lying in. What had I been doing in the morgue? Stanley gasped as he saw me. I heard him say in a nervous voice, "You were suppose to be dead?"

Something took over my body and I jumped out of the morgue drawer and grabbed him. I moved like lightning. It was like I was little more than an animal and I had absolutely no control. I tried to fight whatever controlled my body but it was useless.

While I was strong for a woman, I had never been this strong before and I weighted far less than he did. He was probably just a little over two hundred pounds while I weighed only around one fifty. He tried fighting me off but I held him like he was a kid. He screamed as I attacked him. Pushing him against the wall, I tilt his neck to the side and bit into his jugular. His warm blood began flowing into my throat along with the pulse of his life force. He faded slowly as I drained him completely. He fell to the ground when I released him.

It was at this point where I managed to gain control back from whatever had taken me over. It was obvious that Stanley was dead and I had killed him. The thought filled me with horror. How could I do something like that. I had always considered myself one of the good 'guys' but I had broken something deep inside. It was not until then that I remember what had happened to me and the vampire who had drained me.

Suddenly it came to me, I was a vampire. I don't know why it took me as long as it had to figure out what had happened to me. I don't watch many movies but I had seen one where the only way you could become a vampire was by drinking the blood of a vampire. When I had bit the lip of the one who attacked me, I had swallowed some of his blood.

The police must have found my body and brought me to the morgue because they thought I was dead. Was I dead? To them, I was dead. At least it appeared that the medical examiner had not performed an autopsy on my body. Cause of death probably seemed pretty straight forward anyway. Where had they found me? I noted that my wrists were completely healed.

Standing up, I looked down where Stanley had fallen. The thought came to my mind that at least he did not have a wife or children. The thought shamed me that I could be so callous. Stanley had always been courteous and had never caused me any trouble. I had killed him. I vowed that I would never do that to another innocent person again.

Eventually someone would come in and check on Stanley or another body would be brought to the morgue. Maybe I should just stay here and wait for someone to come. What good would it do and what would they make of me coming back from the dead. I decided that I should go. Someone still needed to track down that murderer, vampire or not, otherwise he would just keep murdering prostitutes. Maybe I could drink cows blood or break into a blood bank to survive.

It was at that moment that I realized that I was still naked. I would need something to wear. Stripping the cloths off of a body is not as easy as most people think but there was little choice. Reluctantly, I lifted Stanley's body from the floor onto a metal Gurney. It was amazing how light he seemed, it was like lifting a young kid.

First I took off his duty belt. Pulling his pistol out of his holster, I noted that he carried a Ruger P345. It looked almost brand new. Not an extremely expensive pistol, it was still a very nice weapon. I always like the knockdown power of a forty-five even though police issue weapons were forty calibers. I would need a pistol anyway.

I pulled his pans off and underwear. First stop would be somewhere to get some new underwear although at least his appeared clean. Quickly, I put on the cloths although the pants were far too loose for me. As soon as I got out of here, I needed to go to Walmart to get some new cloths. They would likely be the only ones open as late as Stanley's watched showed it to be. These would never do. I rifled through his wallet and found only five dollars in cash. I had to go back to my apartment and get some money. I grabbed his car keys and made for the door

Chief on my mind was what I would to the vampire who turned me when I caught up with him.

By Kitsune (E-Mail Kitsune).

Copyright © 2006, Kitsune. All rights reserved.