The Blind Vampire Hunter (14 page)

To say the least, I did not sleep well that
night.

Chapter
Ten

Death for Two Dollars

End of another shift managing the theater:
These triple movie nights do not give me a lot of time for
hunting up some breakfast. I should plan on hunting tomorrow night
when we have only the double billing. I guess for now I’ll just
lock up and wait for Metro to wake up and get me home.

With the theatre doors locked, I turned to
consider going over to IHOP; not for pancakes or waffles, but for
Celeste, a fellow foreigner of this New World who figured out my
true breakfast favorite, and is quite willing to be a breakfast
donor, with the unspoken agreement that while I don’t overfeed, she
will be available for additional snack-size feedings
. She
probably hopes I’ll turn her or she has that foolish belief that
after a number of feedings, she will turn automatically. Wrong. But
who am I to dash her young, foolish dreams.

As I pondered this, a voice in the alleyway
shadows announced, “Hey, bitch! You shorted me out of two dollars.
Now I’m going to get my two dollars from you one way or
another.”

I did not have to see the speaker. He was a
big bear of a man who smelled as badly as he looked, and looked as
bad as any ghoul I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.
Earlier in the shift, he gave me a twenty for a two-dollar ticket,
and swore when I gave him back his change, that I shorted him two
dollars. He said this after he walked away and came back. When he
returned to give me a hard time over the two dollars, he shoved
another paying customer out of his way in his boisterous rage, all
over the mythical two dollars. He almost started a fight right
there in front of the ticket office with the customer he shoved. He
most likely would have started a fight if a constable was not
standing right there—how rare is that?

“Thought you heard the last of me I bet,
bitch,” the boldly obtuse voice announced from the safety of the
shadows.
Who was it who said, “It’s always darkest before the
dawn.”

I was as coquettish as possible, and I can be
very coquettish with hundreds of years of practice, “What do you
have in mind, my big hunk of a man?” Taking the bait, the big lug
came forth out of the shadows, with one hand over his manhood, and
said, “So it’s like that, bitch. Yeah, I got something for you ...
if you think you can handle it.”

I did not want him to come out any farther
from the shadows. For one, I did not want to have to stomach that
big, ugly maul of a face, and two, I wanted to give us more privacy
for what was coming next. I quickly moved up to this big troll and
gently forced myself against him. I slipped a hand down between his
hand and his quickly bulging pants. I had years of practice at
this. I moved up and inward enough to gently brush my lips against
his lips which smelled like cheap beer. Using just the feathery
brush of flesh on flesh, I moved up to his ear and with a gentle
bite to his earlobe, I whispered, “I want you, all of you big
man.”

As his manhood jumped and grew at my touch, I
so gently maneuvered him back into the total privacy of the
shadows, the whole time moving my tongue down from his earlobe to
his neck. Then, quickly, I shoved him back into the alley, pinning
him against the brick wall like a fly in a web. I sunk my hungry
fangs deep into the side of his neck with such force that he never
got a sound off before I started feeding and bleeding him to death.
Dinner is served.
That first gush of blood forcing its way
into and down my throat can be so orgasmic at times, but this
pirate’s blood attested to his fat build. I almost choked on the
fat within his blood—almost.

Not being a great feast, I stopped feeding
and moved the still bleeding body against a corner of the alleyway.
I took a folded knife from my purse and slit his throat to hide my
feeding bite marks. Just to give the cops something to think about,
I removed his wallet and emptied the contents around, but I took
both the money and the credit cards. I tossed the cards in a
trashcan on the way to the underground—
subway, remember in
American it is called, subway, not underground
. So much for
worrying about dinner.

Later, as I was approaching the Metro station
for home, two young men came out of the shadows. One announced
himself, with “Hey bitch.”
What is American men’s fascination
with female dog?.
I just kept walking, until the two walked out
into the middle of the walkway, obviously to block my progress into
the Metro station. The young man continued, “I said, hey, bitch.
You trying to diss me woman? You better not be dissing me.”

I had no choice but to stop my progress or
plow through them. Movement to the side momentarily distracted me.
A woman was with the two young men.
Looks like a hooker, but
does not smell like a hooker. Interesting. Play this right and she
could be a delightful second course.
Returning my attentions to
the young men, I said, “I am sorry. I don’t understand this “diss.”
Would you mind explaining?”

“Do I look like a word book to you, bitch?”
the supposed leader of the threesome responded.

“Man, let’s just have our fun with this
shapely little toy,” the other walkway blockade announced. “Let’s
just do her and walk, man. It’s getting late.”

To emphasize his point, he pulled out a long
pocketknife, and with an audible click, a long, nasty-looking blade
almost magically appeared. Before the leader could respond, I made
my move...

With one hand, I put my fingers together and
hardened them into a long, nailed blade. I charged forward, digging
my nails into the throat of the leader just as effectively as any
knife blade they had on them. His blood gushed out, making a mess
of the sidewalk. I got my other hand into position and charged the
second one so fast that I was out from under the crimson gush of
the leader before any blood could get on me to tell a tale.
Grabbing the second foe’s knife-wielding hand before he could do
anything more than look shocked, I bent his arm with ease, forcing
the young man to cut his own throat. As I admired his life fluids
draining all down the front of him, a female scream reminded me
that I was dealing with a threesome, as well performing for the
sake of the female. I had not completely forgotten her, though.
After all, this gorish performance was for her benefit—and
mine.

As the two young men sunk to the walkway,
gurgling out their lives, I moved quickly up behind the young lady
dressed like a hooker, who was not a hooker, and inhaled the
enticing aroma of fear wafting off her so delightfully. After all,
this is why the two foes died the way they did. I could now enjoy a
nice adrenaline-laced dessert to my dinner, but this dessert was
just not quite ready...

In my best, unnatural, demonic voice I
screeched, “Are you ready to die, my dear?”

With the enticing aroma building so
delightfully, she whimpered, “No, please. I’m too young to die.
Please, pretty lady. Don’t kill me.” As she pleaded for her life,
her knees started to weaken, but a well-placed hand under her
armpit prevented even that small avenue of escape. She started to
wet her pants. What a shame. She would ruin the delightful smell of
my dinner with the disgusting aroma of piss. So, with my fangs
nearly throbbing with the anticipation of this meal, I sunk my
fangs into her delightfully soft neck and totally enjoyed this
night’s properly seasoned dessert.

Afterwards, I searched the leader for a
knife. When I found one, I positioned the two foes so that it would
look as if they killed each other. The scene now appeared as if one
of the men killed the other for revenge for killing the girl.

On the following night, completing my
paperwork was interrupted with, “Excuse me, boss, there are some
dicks here and they would like to see you” My floor manager stood
in front of me, nervous about interrupting my paperwork with his
announcement.

“Dicks?” I asked, not familiar with the term,
except being someone’s name.

“Dicks, detectives, in this case, D.C.
homicide. Seems we have a dead body in the alleyway next to the
theatre. They would like to question you about it.”

Knowing from experience that constables don’t
like to be kept waiting and assuming this included “Dicks,” I
followed my floor manager out of the office and into the theatre
lobby. I found two men in cheap suits and two uniformed constables
closely watching my arrival. Someone with less experience in
deceiving uniformed fools would probably be feeling intimidated
right now. I was not feeling anything less than confident in my
coming performance. As I walked up toward the awaiting party, my
floor manager discreetly separated, walking into one of the
theatres, even though there were already ushers in the only theatre
of the three used during the graveyard shift. As I approached, one
of the suits starts with, “Miss Isabella Báthory, presently a
resident in Maryland?”

“Yes, sir. And you two are?”

“Officera Dickson and Jones, presently
assigned to homicide. Would you mind coming with us, just outside
to the alleyway next to this theatre?” They did not have to show
their badges, as they were hanging outside the breast pockets of
their cheap suits.

“Lead the way, officer Dickson,” I
answered.

The two suits led the way with the two
uniform constables following behind me. The procession went out the
front door and turned left toward the alleyway, where I had dumped
my dinner remains the night before. Was I worried? Of course not.
These officers were just fishing for information, nothing more.
Between my superior predatory night sight and my enhanced hearing
during my feeding, I not only saw no one in the immediate area, but
the closest heartbeats were coming from the IHOP two blocks away.
No, these officers were just fishing and I was willing to bet, this
fish was going to be the one who got away. As we walked out, I
looked at my watch. We had a little over a half-hour before the
current show ended and the next one began. I just hoped this
production would be over by then.

Walking into the dark outside was no problem.
When we turned the corner, a bright light caught me unprepared. I
started by reflex from the sudden light attack on my eyes.

“Sorry, Miss Báthory, for not preparing you
for this sight.”

Bull.
They set me up, wanting to
test my reaction to this grotesque sight of death. I’ll play their
game, for now.

Acting indignant, I replied, “You walk me
into this ... this horrid scene. How did you expect me to react ...
to that?” I pointed in the direction of the murder scene. I did not
have to look in that direction considering I was the one who staged
it for the officers.

“Again I apologize, but we were informed that
you might possibly know the homicide victim. Please have a look ...
as distasteful as such a sight will be, please tell us if you
recognize this man.”

Acting the part of a frail female, I made a
point of hesitating to look at the presumed (by the uniformed
fools) ghastly sight. When I did look, I responded, “Sorry, I do
not know this poor fellow.”

“Please Miss Báthory, have another, closer
look. Could his be a customer of yours? Someone you possibly sold a
movie ticket to?”

I did as requested and acted as if I was
getting a closer look. Then I acted as if I suddenly recognized the
man. “My god, I do know this man ... that’s to say I did sell him a
ticket. Yes, I remember him; he claimed I shorted him some money.
He almost started a fight with another customer. One of your
officers interceded before the squabble turned into a fight, and
also before I got a chance to look into his dispute over the
shortage. I never saw him again after that. I can’t say I even
noticed him leave after the show.”

“I have just a couple of questions. Can you
tell me anything about the man you almost had the altercation with,
in front of your ticket booth?

“Nooo, I really can’t. Before anything really
got started, one of your fine officers was present to end it before
it really became an issue. I really did not give it another
thought.”

“Do you normally take care of the ticket
sales?”

“No, Ben, the employee who normally handles
the ticket booth requested to leave early because he was not
feeling well. He even looked a bit poorly, so I sent him home. In
his absence, I resumed handling the ticket purchases myself. I
handled it myself so we would not be short handed with the ushers
and bouncers in the theater, if needed.
No need to mention I
could smell the illness was on Ben with my vampire senses.
I’m
sure you are aware of the occasional roughnecks that the movies
bring in. You don’t suspect the other customer who was almost
involved in the fight?”

“No. This looks like a mugging, not a fight
that’s gone too far. Sorry we had to call you out like this, but
one of your employees recognized him as the customer that required
lawful interference. We just wanted to see if you could verify this
was the man and possibly give any additional information on
him.”

“Sorry I can’t be of more help. My short
interaction with this fellow did give me the impression that he had
a temper problem. Possibly that had something to do with his
current condition. Officer Dickson, customers for the next show may
be arriving soon. May I get back to my duties? Ben is still out
sick and I was not able to get a replacement for him on such short
notice. I am presently running the ticket booth yet again this
night.”

“Yes, you may go.” As I started to leave, he
added, “One more thing, Miss Báthory, please take my card. Just in
case something comes to mind that may be of help.” As I took his
card, he continued, “Thank you again for your cooperation. Sorry we
had to bring you out to see this ... unpleasant scene.”