"The Bloody 'Burbs" (writers welcome)

[tony2013tony]

"The Bloody Burbs"​

OOC: I know it says "Writers Welcome",
but please PM the Host -- me, obviously --
before joining and posting to the thread,
to ensure we know where we're heading.​

The woman emerged from the bathroom, her robe hanging open to reveal firm breasts and a freshly shaven pubic area. Even in the unlit hallway, Roland Taylor could see -- and appreciate -- her well shaped body, as well as if she'd been standing outside in the mid-afternoon sun.

She caught sight of him and, after flinching in surprise, giggled and asked, "Honey, I thought you were waiting for me in--"

She didn't finish. Rolly was on her in a flash, a hand over her mouth and an arm pinning her against the wall. He bit into her neck, puncturing her carotid, instantly filling his mouth with warm, iron-rich blood.

The woman struggled in vain for a long moment, then became still and quiet as her blood deprived brain neared unconsciousness, then death.

Rolly loaded the bodies of the woman and her also-murdered lover into the trunk of their own car. He dumped them in a pit he'd dug three days earlier in a State Park, concealing it again with the sheet of plywood and forest debris. He knew they'd be found eventually, but by then -- after the bugs and forest critters had had their fill -- they'd be hard to identify. The news report would give him and the identification delay would give him a head start ... to the next feeding location.

He was back at the suburban home before dawn. He picked through the left overs in the fridge, watched the morning news, and went to bed just before sunrise. Except for the reverse schedule -- as he was ending his day the rest of the Willow Creek suburbanites were just beginning theirs -- it was just another typical day in the Bloody 'Burbs.

 

[tony2013tony]

The fall of the sun behind the nearby mountains was like an alarm clock to Rolly. His eyes popped open, and after a moment, he stood and began a slow tour of the home that he'd only briefly surveyed the evening before.

He learned all he needed to know about the couple from the photos on the wall, the mail on the kitchen table, and the Facebook accounts on their respective laptops. They were newlyweds, childless, and newly arrived to the neighborhood; they weren't obviously involved in any community organizations, and the lack of personal emails told Rolly that they either had no close family or simply didn't converse with them.

He moved from one window to another, looking out upon the neighborhood. Under the failing, red light of sun down, he could see six homes from this one. No one was about: video games, internet, and cable television were going to be Rolly's greatest allies in remaining hidden here in the suburbs.

 

[tony2013tony]

"Say that again."

The Detective looked from his Captain to his partner, hoping she would take the lead and clarify what he himself had told their supervisor. Instead, he got that You wanted to be Lead Detective on this expression. He looked back to the Captain and explained, "He's gone. We were sitting on the brownstone for three days. We know he went in, but we hadn't seen activity for almost 36 hours. So we went in through the back ... and he's gone."

The Captain stood and walked to the window, looking down on the city three blocks below. For almost two years, they'd been tracking the serial killer that the Press had dubbed The Vampire for the method in which he drained his victims of their blood. And now, when they finally had his location, he'd just slipped away?

"He's still in the City," he said. "If not this one, then New York ... Atlantic City ... Philadelphia. Some place with lots of people ... lots of cover. He likes the activity ... the busy-ness ... the confusion of it all. Contact the appropriate city police departments. Put out the word."

"What about the Sheriffs and State Police?" the Detective asked.

"No. City police ...large cities. He won't be in the countryside ... or the 'burbs. He needs crowds to hide in ... a wide selection of victims."

The Captain had been after this killer for a long time and thought he knew him so well. He couldn't have known that The Vampire had taken the radical move of relocating to the suburbs.

 

[tony2013tony]

The moving man was rattling away in Spanish, thinking that Rolly -- who had conversed with him in the language earlier -- was fluent enough to follow him. Rolly finally looked to the Supervisor, a short dark skinned man who had shown fluency in both languages, and asked, "What'd he say?"

"He wants to know why you give such good things away."

"I'm not making the decisions," Rolly lied. "The home owners are relocating ... they gave me a list ... I do what I'm told."

The Supervisor -- wearing a 25 year pin from St. Vincent de Pauls on his hat -- relayed Rolly's explanation to the younger volunteer, told him to go back to work, then continued directing the six men under him in what to take to the big truck parked at the curb.

Rolly went to the window and scouted the neighborhood. He'd seen a few of the neighbors take notice of the moving van earlier, but none had had enough interest to stop by and ask about what the Stanfords were doing.

Just before 9pm, though, a City Police cruiser pulled slowly up to the curb. The Officer got out and was immediated engaged by the Supervisor. Rolly watched them for a concerned minute, wondering whether the gig was up all ready. When the Officer returned to his car and drove off, Rolly walked out to the Supervisor and asked, "What was that about?"

"Willow Creek has a noise ordinance," the man explained. "We have to be finished with our work before ten."

Rolly pulled a money clip from his pant's pocket, whipped off a hundred dollar bill for each man, and handed them to the Supervisor, who immediately waved the money off, reminding Rolly that they were volunteers. "Take it. You have done fine work today, and I appreciate you coming out this evening."

The man continued to resist for a long moment, but eventually -- seeing his workers giving him expectant looks -- he took the money. "Gracias. Thank you very much."

The team shut down the operation, and ten minutes later the truck pulled away, exposing to the neighbors the "SOLD!" sign Rolly had stolen from another yard and planted near the end of the driveway.

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

Raechel walked out onto her front porch, staring up at the stars with a glass of strawberry wine in her hand. She sipped slowly, thoughtfully, surveying her new neighborhood. She noticed the "SOLD" sign on her front lawn was missing. 'The real estate agent must have come by while I was out,' she thought absently. Settling herself into her porch swing, she lounged back, pushing off against the porch before curling up into a ball with her wine.

There would be no more nights like this spent with "him". There would be no more playful banter between them. A tear rolled down her cheek and angrily she swiped it away. Jumping off the swing she stormed inside and, leaving the glass on the counter, she pulled on sneakers and a sweat shirt and stormed back put jogging down to the end of her drive and turning onto the road. It was a quiet, peaceful neighborhood. Nothing like the place she'd left. Tears pricked her eyes again. She picked up the pace. She didn't care that it was dark. The blackness enveloped her in comfort and solitude. She ran until she could hardly breathe. Eventually, panting hard, she collapsed beneath a well manicured tree only yards from her house. She saw her porch light glimmer but had to close her eyes for a moment.

A memory invaded her mind, quite unbidden. A young, handsome face looked into her own, offering a hand to get her up. Tears poured from her eyes and she gasped for air. Suddenly there was a buzzing in her ears and her head began to spin. Blackness enveloped her and she slumped against the tree.

 

[tony2013tony]

Haste makes waste...

The old idiom had probably never been used in this context before, but it was the first thing that came to Rolly's mind after he'd drunk his fill of Raechel Harding.

Haste makes waste...

He could apply the phrase to taking too much from Raechel, thereby killing her. He didn't want to do that, tonight or any other night. He'd spied her the evening before through her kitchen window and become quickly entranced with her beauty. Rolly may have been a vampire, but he was a human, too; and, as his vampire self needed blood, his human side -- his man side needed sexual satisfaction as well.

Tonight, when she'd come to her porch, he'd turned off the back porch light and slipped quietly around to the fence to get a better look at her. His night vision was likely better than her day vision, and standing among the Laurels, he spent a long moment ogling her and yearning to have her come to his bed.

But that wasn't going to happen tonight, of course. It had been three days since he'd fed on the Stanfords; he was hungry, and getting to close to Raechel could simply be too much temptation for him.

And, of course, it turned out to be so very true.

He was disappointed when she took off out into the neighborhood, leaving him standing there alone in the dark. He loitered for a few minutes, then took a slow walk around the property, getting his first extended look at the exterior of the home. He didn't like the multitude of windows and other access points; his brownstone apartment had had the one door and fire escape window, and he'd always felt safe and secure.

As he arrived at the end of the front walk, he head rapidly approaching footsteps and realized that Raechel was returning. He stood statue still next to the rose arbor and was surprised when she slowed her insane pace and, just yards from her own gate, came to a stop practically in front of his.

Rolly began to panic! In the light of darkness, he could see the exhausted woman gasping for air before him ... and he could hear her heart pounding furiously, forcing her life force through her in an attempt to replace the oxygen her muscles so badly needed replenished. Blood... Raechel was practically glowing before Rolly, the heat of her body -- the heat of her blood! -- like a beach lighthouse, directing the hungry vampire.

He couldn't help himself. He stepped closer to her, standing directly over her. She looked up as he reached out and took her by the wrist, lifting her to her feet and immediately sinking his fangs into her neck. She jerked at the sudden pain, but the adrenaline and endorphins rushing through her ease the pain, and the sedatives Rolly was pumping into her finished the job. She collapsed in his arms like a rag doll, without ever making a sound of alarm which might alert the neighbors to the presence of a vampire in their midst...



Haste makes waste...

Rolly only took enough to quench his thirst, then sealed the wounds with coagulants and pulled his fangs. With his lips still pressed to her neck, he used them and his tongue to lick away every drop of blood, leaving only a slight stain of red against her neck.

He laid her against the trunk of the tree at the end of his walk, stood tall, and searched the neighborhood; they were alone, with no prying eyes anywhere to be seen. He left her there, went to the house for a flashlight, returned, and snapped a thick, thorn-adorned section of the rose bush away.

He squatted before Raechel, jostling her until she returned to consciousness, then -- seeing her face light up with confusion, even fear -- said quickly, "It's okay, Miss. You passed out. Fell into the rose bush."

He turned the beam of the flashlight on the thorny rose branch, then tossed it aside and reached up to touch her neck as if only now seeing it for the first time. "It looks bad, Miss. We should take you inside. You live next door, don't you?"

He glanced off toward her place, then stood and offered her a hand. "You have a first aid kit, yes...? Disinfectant, the whole nine yards...?"

Rolly wasn't sure whether his ruse would work or not, but it didn't really matter. No feeder ever remembered being fed up unless the vampire wanted them to do so, so it wasn't like she was going to suddenly scream out, "Vampire! Vampire!"

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

Raechel nodded slowly, still dazed. She looked around, not sure at first of where she was, but quickly recognizing the trees and cute little houses of her new suburban home. She felt a little dizzy as she rose slowly to her feet and began leading the way to her house. She was curious about this stranger but was to confused to question anything.

"Come on in," she mumbled, opening her door and leading the way. She switched on a light over the stove and fumbled through a drawer until she pulled out a small pencil box. Flicking it open, she fumbled through the band-aids, antibiotic ointments, and pain relievers, not quite sure what she was looking for, still distracted by the stranger standing so close.

Switching topics, not really caring about being cut up, she pulled her half drunk bottle of wine from the fridge. "Can I get you a drink? It's the least I can do after you had to come out in the middle of the night to pull me out of the rose bush. How did I even end up there?" she mused half to herself as she pulled down some fresh glasses. 'And why am I not more cut up? It was a freaking briar patch.'

 

[tony2013tony]

Raechel was unsteady in her walk, what with her body -- and more importantly her brain -- deprived of a half pint of blood. Rolly reached out quickly a couple of times to steady her as she led him to and into her house without showing even a moments hesitation.

"Come on in," she mumbled, scrounging through first aid supplies in a small box but, in the end, not pulling out anything. Instead, she headed for the fridge and pulled out an open bottle of wine. "Can I get you a drink? It's the least I can do after you had to come out in the middle of the night to pull me out of the rose bush."

"Well, you weren't exactly--"

"How did I even end up there?" she interrupted, her voice sounding to Rolly more like she was asking herself than him. "And why am I not more cut up? It was a freaking briar patch."

"Well, I don't want you to think I was stalking you or anything," he said, knowing that that was essentially what he had been doing. "But I had noticed you going to a job, and I was concerned ... what with the time and all. I ... I sort of caught you, as you fell. But obviously not enough to prevent you from being harmed."

He snatched an alcohol swab from the first aid kit and stepped up close to her. "Let me clean that. You don't want to get infected."

She wouldn't, of course. A vampire's bite was clean as they neither carried germs nor ever got sick. But Rolly simply wanted an excuse to get close to her ... and to put his hands upon her. He ripped open the package and gestured toward her neck, asking politely, "May I...?"

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

She nodded slowly, setting the glasses and bottle down as he got close. Her heart beat excelerated and she chewed her bottom lip. When he laid his hand on her, gently wiping away spots of blood, she jumped ever so slightly. She felt so aware despite her spinning head.

"I-I'm Raechel, by the way."

 

[tony2013tony]

"I-I'm Raechel, by the way."

She flinched a bit at his touch. Rolly couldn't be sure whether it had been a reaction to touching her wound or to the zing.

The zing was a connection that occurred between vampires and non-vampires -- aka humans, although theoretically Rolly was once one himself -- when they came into physical, skin to skin contact with one another. Depending upon the age of the vampire and his familiarity with the human, the power of what was learned during this connection varied, intensifying over time. One day, assuming they came to know one another, this connection -- called the zing because it tended to cause a little zap, similar to static electricity -- could become so intense that they could almost hear one another's thoughts, feel one another's desires and wants.

The zing had one big bonus Rolly particularly enjoyed: it made love making, and the feeding done during it, the most incredibly satisfying act an individual -- vampire or not -- would ever partake of.

Rolly looked deep into her eyes, then back down to the neck wound. He let his gaze fall as inconspicuously as he could to her well rounded body. This, he knew, was a woman to whom he could really enjoy making love, with or without the zing.

"Roland Taylor," he finally replied, deciding there was no reason to hide his true identity from her. He had left nothing -- and no one -- behind in the City who could connect his name to the string of unsolved murders and feeding attacks. He looked back into Raechel's eyes, smiled a bit, and said softly, "But I would like you to call me Rolly ... Raechel."

He finished his work with an inch square Band-Aid to her neck, saying, "Leave this on tonight. You can take it off before work tomorrow. You won't even be able tell you'd been injured."

That was, of course, true. Vampires had both evolved and learned to cause minimal damage that healed quickly. It enable them to feed on the same humans more often; it enabled them to have permanent Feeders, rather than having to find one human after another after another.

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

Blushing slightly, Raechel stripped off her sweatshirt and poured herself a glass of the wine, downing it quickly. 'Might need something stronger,' she thought, chuckling softly to herself. Something about this man churned her blood and made her heart skip. Leaning back against the counter she eyed him.

"Just call me Rae. So, are you new to the area too? I didn't see you at the barbecue the Simons had to welcome us to the neighborhood."

 

[tony2013tony]

"Just call me Rae."

Rae... Rolly liked that. It reminded him of ray, as in shafts of light. He missed daylight at times. Oh, he could go out into it if he felt the need, but it sapped his energy almost as quickly as feeding from Rae had sapped hers an hour earlier.

"So, are you new to the area too?" she asked, confirming Rolly's suspicions that she hadn't been here long. "I didn't see you at the barbecue the Simons had to welcome us to the neighborhood."

Community barbeques... crap. Rolly was hoping to simply live in obscurity, hiding in the Stanfords home until he moved on; last thing he wanted was eager beaver neighbors, wanting to throw a shrimp on the barbie and talk about their kids and favorite sports teams.

"I'm not ... I'm not really a neighbor," he said, not a lie, of course. But he continued with a lie, saying, "I'm a professional house sitter. I watch over folks' homes while they are in the process of sudden relocations. The Stanfords ... had to go somewhere else ... suddenly. I'll be here a few days..."

He let his gaze drop for just a quick moment to Rae's sexy form, not even more obvious to him with the sweat top shed. He lifted his eyes again, smiled knowingly, and added, "...weeks maybe. We'll ... we'll see how things go."

 

[MissVictoria]

As Dorothy Hummel entered the darkened bedroom, she found the old woman standing at the window, peeking out the side of a thin sliver of curtain illuminated only by the nightlight in the hallway.

"What are you doing, Grammy?" she asked, flipping on the light switch. The overhead lamp immediately illuminated the dusty mauve room, filled to the brim with old ceramic poodles. Gram had been collecting them her entire life, but Dot had never understood why. There were many things about her Gram that she would never understand, the least of which was her nocturnal adventures out of bed.

"I'm watching for that vampire." the old woman returned, stepping away from the curtain, a worried expression folding her wrinkled face into a caricature. Dot sighed, stepping forward to gently grasp the old woman's frail arm covered by a fluffy pink robe.

"Oh, Gram." she issued with a sigh, a different sort of worry crossing the younger woman. Gram's dementia was showing itself more frequently these days. As her grandmother's sole caretaker, it was beginning to overwhelm Dot. She didn't have experience with this sort of thing. Staying with Gram was a labor of love. "There is no such thing as vampires."

The old woman allowed herself to be guided by Dot's hand. "Mark my words, Dorothy Blanche Hummel, there are things you don't understand." She clutched at the arm supporting her, stopping in her tracks. "Promise me, Dottie, you won't tell your Grandfather."

Dot sighed, her eyes stinging, threatening to fill with tears that did not come. Her grandfather had been dead for five years now, but she didn't have the heart to tell her Grandmother. Again.

"Of course not, Gram." she replied, soothingly. "Lets get you back to bed."

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

Nodding slowly, Rae contemplated Rolley's answer.

"Must be a lonely career," she commented, pressing her loose fist to her chin in nonchalant contemplation. "Well let me be the first to offer you my company anytime you should need it." She smiled warmly at him.

 

[tony2013tony]

"Must be a lonely career," Rae commented. "Well let me be the first to offer you my company anytime you should need it."

Rolly couldn't help it; his lips spread a slight smirk at the thought of having this beauty's company ... and at any time.

"It would be, but I have distractions," he said. He lied, "I'm a writer. Books. Sometimes screenplays." He saw the expression on her face and quickly waved her off, saying, "No, nothing you'd know. I'm as of yet unpublished."

He turned away, tossing the first aid trash into a nearby garbage can. He should be going; he knew that. He'd already tasted Rae, and staying any longer -- particularly with his penis beginning to come alive at the thought of company anytime -- could only lead to him feeding on her a second time in too short a period. She would remember the second time; he doubted that he could hide it from her with his mind games.

"I should be taking off," he managed, turning back to her. "But ... I would like to see you again, if that's alright. Dinner maybe. This weekend--" He thought for a moment, then pressed his luck. "--or ... maybe tomorrow...?"

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

"Yes," Rae ansered his invitation, perhaps a little too eagerly. "Er, that is, if you're sure you'd like my cimpany that soon."

She was chewing her bottom lip again and tracung a pattern on the floor with her foot.

 

[tony2013tony]

(OOC: This post is for the Detective Team in this post. I am going to write both the male and female cops. Also, this sequence of posts involving Dot and Gram is not currently in the same time line with that involving Rolly and Rae, so don't feel as if they are out of sync; these events follow Rolly's flight from the city, but for all we know it could be 1 day or 1 week before or after Rolly meets Rae. This allows us to write the two sequences simultaneously without one or two writers waiting for the third to "catch up". Eventually, the two sequences will merge together as one, when Dot, Gram, or the Cops come to Willow Creek, where Rolly and Rae currently are. One last thing: I took some liberties with the identities of Dot and Blanche. I can change anything you don't like.)


Detective Dick Hayes was on his knees on the Precinct floor, surrounded by a fan of photos, papers, and other evidence from The Vampire Murder case when he called out, "Jesus fucking Christ!"

Lori Chalmers looked up from her computer screen to her partner, asking, "Do you have to talk like that?"

He waved off his partner's chastising, then stood quickly and moved to her desk, slapping a photocopy sheet down on her desk before her. "It was right here the whole time!"

She stared for a long moment at the image, a photocopy of a picture that had been found at one of the crime scenes. She was hoping to see what he was seeing, but all she saw was a young couple -- maybe early to late 20s -- sitting in a Ferris Wheel car, sharing a kiss as they waited for the ride to begin. "What are you ranting about?"

"Don't you see it?"

"I see the Centennial Wheel at Memorial Park," she said, studying the photo for the hundredth time. "The conditions of the trees says autumn, and we know the park closes November 1st, so ... sometime in October. The clothes and hairstyles ... that historian dude we contract with--"

"Yeah, yeah, early '50s, maybe '55," Dick cut in. "Which makes that couple late early to late 80s, not my point."

He ripped an artist's drawing off the Big Board and slapped it down next to the photocopy. The likeness between the man in the drawing -- The Vampire, as described by a transient who'd seen a woman attacked -- and the man in the old photo was uncanny.

"You're saying this is him?" Lori laughed. "Wow, you're really falling for all of this vampire crap, aren't--"

"Shut it!" he cut in. "I'm not saying they're the same man. But what if ... what if they are related...?" He gave his partner a moment to consider it, then said, "You should see my father. If he wasn't old and gray, you would think we were twins. What if the Vampire ... excuse me, the suspect, is this man's kid--" He tapped a finger to the Ferris Wheel picture. "Or grandson...? We've been thinking all along that the picture was unrelated to the crime ... just dropped by some random person. But what if it is related...? What if they are related?"

Lori thought about it for a moment, then said, "How does that help us? We don't know who the couple in the--"

"Blanche fucking Hummel!" he cut in, excited. He apologized for his profanity, picked up another sheet from the floor, and slapped it down. "One of the techs downstairs had a program that searches old data bases. Blanche Elizabeth Hummel, born the fifth of September, 1925 in Roanoke, Virginia. Last known where abouts..." He stepped over to a map on the Big Board and slapped his hand to it, directly in the midst of a number of pins indicating crime scenes. "... here ... smack dab in the middle of every thing!"

Lori hesitated for a moment before asking, "So ... where are you going with this? You think she knows the Vampire--" She caught and tried to correct herself, but Dick just laughed and continued.

"I think she knew the vampire's father, or grandfather," he said, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. "And I think this is the best chance we've had so far to put a name to the face."



Forty minutes later, Lori knocked on the door of Blanche Hummel's home and, as a younger woman answered, flashed her badge, asked Dot's relationship to their hopeful witness, and asked, "May we come in and speak to your grandmother? We think she may have information that will lead to a serial killer."

 

[tony2013tony]

(OOC - Sorry about the length. I just couldn't help myself.)


The City
14 December 1944


Rolly was going by the name Ronald Timms these days. He'd had to change names when the draft noticed showed up at the boarding house. He couldn't join the Army, obviously. How do you explain to the Draft Board that you can't be out in the sunlight for more than a few minutes at a time, or that at least once a week, you need to suck down a pint of blood taken directly from a warm, pumping body.

It was the ninth time he'd changed his identity since becoming what he was today. It was easy enough to do, of course. Fingerprinting wasn't the norm yet, and DNA was still five decades away from common use.

For several days, he'd been watching a beauty who worked in the little store on the corner, kitty-corner to his second floor apartment. He had access to plenty of Feeders, of course; the city was full of transients before the War started, and now with the constant movement of troops and supply trains, there were ten times as many people from which Ronny could feed.

He wasn't looking at this young woman as a Feeder, though. He was looking for a lover. She was beautiful: mid height, slender with a small waist and impressive bosom; long, dark brown hair was forever impeccably styled into perfect waves that caught the wind each evening when she stepped out on to the streets, presumably to walk home.

Ronny had been there one day on the streets and watched her pass. She had a wonderful mouth, full lips that he so badly wanted to kiss. But it was her eyes that had entranced him, a seemingly unnatural black almost; they should have scared anyone foolish enough to look into them, seeming to have a power to them that he simply couldn't resist.

He'd never seen her with a man, so tonight he was on the street ready to happen into her and strike up a conversation. That was when they showed up. There were six of them, three each in sailor's dress whites from the US Navy and one of America's European allies. They saw her emerge from the store and quickly caught up with her, surrounding her; it was friendly at first, but they had ill-intent and Ronny could see in her eyes that she knew that immediately.

He sprinted for her position just as they sailors pushed her into the alley and began pawing at her, groping her buttocks and breasts and trying to pull down her skirt. Ronny arrived just as one of the men slapped her, dropping her into the arms of one of the others, who quickly began pulling her deeper into the alley.

It was over before some of the sailors knew what hit them. Coming up from behind them, Ronny had pierced one sailor's back with a stake from a broken pallet as he reached up with his fingers curled and ripped another man's throat out as if he'd been scooping ice cream from a gallon container. A third man took a swing, only to have his arm, then his neck broken. A fourth got the drop on Ronny, slugging a fist into the hero's face, only to pull the hand back, whimpering as if he'd slugged a brick wall. Ronny killed that man by twisting his head 180 degrees around, even as he was still moving toward the fifth man who had taken, then released the young woman's feet to join the fight behind him.

"Come get me, I dare you," the sailor hollered, pulling a knife from under his uniform and holding it out threateningly. Ronny took it from him easily and gave it back to him, blade first, right through his voice box.

The action ceased for a moment as Ronny slowly walked toward the last man, who was now clutching the disoriented beauty close to him for protection as he fumbled to get his own fold up knife open. Ronny said in an even voice, "Perhaps you should just give it up and head down the alley."

As the sailor was considering the thought, Ronny looked to the woman in his arms. She didn't appear to be conscious, but he couldn't be sure. Had she seen what he'd done? What would she think of him when she regained her composure? The last thing he wanted from her was to think him some kind of animal or danger to her.

There was, of course, only two ways to be sure she wouldn't remember what had happened here. The first was kill her. Ronny wasn't going to do that, obviously. The other was to feed upon her, injecting her as he did all of his victims to destroy -- or at least confuse -- their short term memory. Ronny hadn't wanted to feed on this beauty. He'd wanted her for a lover. But, if he was going to have the latter, the prior was going to be necessary as well.

Suddenly the man dropped his hostage onto a pile of garbage and began sprinting away. He made it less than thirty feet before Ronny was upon him, snapping his neck and dropping him unceremoniously to the cobble stone pavement.



Ten hours later, just as the sun was beginning to lift the veil of darkness on the City, she regained consciousness and, after a long moment, rose to a sitting position on Ronny's bed. He was on the far side of the room, a respectable distance as he was a strange man with an unknown woman not just in his apartment but in, or at least on his bed.

"You're safe," he said the instant she locked eyes on him. "There was a brawl on the streets. Sailors from different navies ... boys being boys. You got caught up in it, I'm afraid. I didn't know what to do, so I brought you up here."

Ronny gestured to her neck, where a large cotton patch was taped in place. "You were hurt. I cleaned it up. I hope that was alright."

He had never tried to block someone's short term memory before, although he knew how to do it. He had taken a pint and a half from her -- too much probably -- and pumped her full of coagulants and mind altering hormones for near the end. He wouldn't know whether she remembered anything until she opened her mouth ... to say thank you ... or to scream bloody murder, he couldn't know.

 

[MissVictoria]

The City, 14 Dec 1944

Light swam into the edge of her vision. Were her eyes closed? She tried to open them. The ceiling was blurry, with a single light fixture hanging from the center. A lone bulb on the end of a black wire that she did not recognize. Where was she? Her head hurt.

She tried to sit up, but failed the first time, sinking back into a thin pillow that felt foreign to her. This wasn't hers, she decided, and tried to sit up again. This time she made it. The room was spinning, and she tried to pull it into focus. In the distance there was a figure, a man looking her direction. When he spoke, it was as if he was doing it through water. The words were amplified, and difficult to make sense of.

"You're safe."

Yes. She felt as if she was, but she had no idea why. The voice was talking about sailors, about a brawl. She could recall a few of their faces, dancing on the rims of her memory. Three? Four? She could not seem to grasp the number. The last thing she remembered was stepping out the door of Daisy's Hat Shop after her shift, and then events seemed to dissolve into something that was not quite tangible.

Her dark eyes turned toward the distant figure. It was a man her own age, she realized, but she did not feel endangered. Her vision was returning to her, the blur only now on the edges of it. He had dark hair, and was beautiful in the way that only a man can be - something in the features that promised strength and endurance. She realized that she was staring.

"Where are we?" she asked, politely averting her gaze to look around the room.

 

[Makitsu_Trinity]

Present day- Three months ago

Raechel stood looking at the bloody mess at her feet. Silent tears raced down her hot cheeks as she shook violently in shock. There lay the remains of her young love, throat slashed to bits. Three other men stood over him covered in what could only be his blood. One turned to see her and his face split into a predatorial grin.

"He told you to stay back, honey," the man sneered, stepping towards her. "You should've lisstened." He approached her slowly, slinking like a nasty alley cat on the prowl, his lean body rippling with the effort to stretch out her fearand his pleasure. Before she could move, he was at her side, pulling her hair away and kissing her neck, her jaw and lastly on her lips. His tasted of cheap beer and cigarettes. Under all that was a distinct metallic taste that Rae couldn't quite identify.

"Maybe next time someone tells you to stay out of a dark alley you'll listen."

A sharp pain in the back of her head was all she registered before her world went black. She woke up three days later in a hospital bed and was discharged just in time to attend her lover's funeral. He was killed defending her. It's what everyone was saying. In other qords,, they all agreed it was her fault. After a week of mixed judgemental and pitiful stares, she packed up and vacated her tiny apartment fir a more inconspicuous hideout.

 

[tony2013tony]

The City
15 Dec 1944


"Where are we?" the beautiful hat merchant asked.

"My apartment," he said, standing and -- inconspicuously stepping close to the wall to stay out of the direct light -- pulled open the blinds to reveal the street below. He gestured toward the building kitty corner to them, which included her place of employment, and said, "Across from your hat shop. My name is--"

He hesitated a moment, almost having given her the most recent old name. It wouldn't have been the first time, and it wouldn't be the last; he couldn't know it now, but he'd make the same mistake almost 70 years from now when he would meet this very woman's grand daughter and refer to himself as Ronald Timms and not Roland Taylor.

"Ronny," he finally said. "My name is Ronny. Can I get you something ... I'm sorry ... I don't know your name?"

He heading for the kitchen as she answered, then began rapidly naming off every thing he had available, from tea to coffee to crackers to cheese to ... anything that came to mind. Ronny was quite well set with food stuffs, despite the rationing for the war. Of course, he'd gotten most of what he had from the homes of those victims -- lonely females he'd met in bars or dance halls and gone home with -- but it wasn't like they were going to use them, right?

Ronny was nervous. He really liked this young woman, despite not knowing her any better than a stranger at a bus stop. And you fed on her! he chastised himself. It had been necessary.

He brought her what she'd chosen, sat it on the lamp table near her, then sat in the chair closer to the bed than earlier. And ... simply stared into her eyes. She was ... so beautiful, this beautiful Bee.

 

[tony2013tony]

Rolly's encounter with Rae the evening before had been wonderful and disappointing at the same time. He hadn't meant to feed on her; it had been impulse. But not only had he gotten away with it -- meaning he hadn't scare the crap out of her -- but they'd made dinner plans for this evening, as well.

He'd left her home and waited for the lights to go out before quietly backing the Stanford's car out of the garage and driving to the next suburb over to visit the only 24 hour grocery store he'd found on the internet. There, he wandered up and down the aisles, filling the cart with a little bit of everything as he cursed himself for not actually asking her what she would want for dinner. Oh well, it was supposed to be Chef's Choice anyway, wasn't it?

He'd made up a story about an early evening appointment, thereby enabling him to set dinner late at 9pm. Rolly wasn't fer shit in the hours of sun fall; if he was going to make a spectacular meal, he wasn't going to be able to start until sun down.

At nine, his most recent victims' home was flooded with the smell of lamb, potatoes, squash, and a dozen other dishes, including vegetarian items in case that was the way Rae dined. Rolly stood back and looked at the table and counters filled with food and laughed, thinking The Simon's probably didn't have this spread for the neighborhood barbeque!

 

[tony2013tony]

Dick Hayes didn't have the police officer's version of good bedside manner, so he left the talking with Dorothy to his partner.

"My name is Detective Chalmers," the investigator said, stepping up into the doorway of the Hummel home in a way that forced the young woman to step out of the doorway. It was an orchestrated move, of course, designed to allow Dick to step up into the home, too, and take a gander without looking too obvious. The Detective thrust her hand out with a broad smile and continued, "You can call me Lori, though."

Dick handed the photo to his partner, who held it up before Dorothy and asked, "Is this your grandmother, Blanche Elizabeth Hummel, Miss?"

Dick flinch a bit and turned hard, finding himself face to face with the elder Hummel. He could see in her face the young woman in the photo. He smiled, snatched the picture from his partner's hand, and held it up before the old woman, asking, "Blanche ... can you tell us this man's name?"

 

[MissVictoria]

A Few Weeks Ago - The City

Dot blinked in surprise as the two investigators gently bullied their way into her grandmother's home. She was taken aback by their sudden appearance, and too taken offguard to object. What could they possibly be doing here? "Hello, Detective Chalmers..." she finally managed, looking down at the photograph. The woman was eerily familiar, and her eyes were for Dot like looking in a mirror - only her grandmother wore it much better in her youth, anyone would say so. "Yes. Though I have never seen that picture before. What do you want with gran?"

The male detective had pressed forward and was now face to face with the old woman. He grabbed the photo from his female counterpart and held it before her, almost too eagerly. Blanche took the photograph, squinting her dark eyes to focus her vision. In an instant, her face changed, at once seeming younger, almost timeless. Then the moment was gone.

The photograph slipped from the old woman's grasp and spiraled to the floor. A look of shock registered on Blanche Hummel's face, and her voice came in a weak whisper. "Where did you get that?"

 

[MissVictoria]

The City - 15 Dec, 1944

"Bee." the young woman responded, then quickly corrected herself. "Blanche. Blanche Goode. My friends call me Bee. Do you have ice? I would love tea."

As he left for the kitchen, she took a moment to get her bearings. The apartment was bare, in the manner that only a bachelor could live. She did not see any photographs decorating the walls. She saw very little at all that gave her any sort of idea of his personality, or his intentions. Yet, somehow she felt safe here. It was all very improper, sitting here on a stranger's bed, and yet she was at ease and curious about the handsome fellow who had supposedly rescued her. He lived so close. She wondered why she had not seen him walking past the store.

He returned with tea, ice cubes tinkling the glass. She was impressed. Not everyone had a freezer chest in their refrigerator. Her parents did, of course, but her parents always had the best things.

He sat down on a chair near the bed and watched her drink. When she put the glass down, a red lipstick print along the edge, he was still staring. She stared back. His gaze was deep and mysterious, something about it hypnotic and dangerous. She found herself holding her breath. He truly was a beautiful man. She found her skin heating.

"Hey there, Mr. Eyeballs" she teased, finally turning her gaze away. "Are you always such a gas?"