The Blind Vampire Hunter (20 page)

“Let’s go.” Isabella noted that her dinner
was already starting to season nicely.

The apartment really was very nice. As
Isabella walked in, she first noted the fireplace as the center
point of an entertainment center that contained a TV to the left
with an impressive looking stereo system just over the TV. To the
right of the fireplace was something of a library of hard- and
soft-covered books. To her right was a kitchen nook and on the nook
was a wine rack almost full of various wine bottles.
Well, at
least he had not lied about having wine to drink.
The wine
rack’s quality and richness was of no concern to her. She was
really not here to dine ... on wine.

“Would you like to get comfortable while I
get the fire going? Then I will pick a nice wine for us to
enjoy”

I can smell your juices flowing already, Mr.
Phil Bowman. Dinner is simmering.

“Actually, I was about to ask for directions
to the little girl’s room,” Isabella answered, slipping a little
shyness into her act.

“Sure, sure ... it’s just past the kitchen,
first door on your left as you enter the hallway. If you should
miss it, you will end up in my bedroom.”

Was that a blush blooming on your checks?
Don’t tell me you are a virgin, Mr. Bowman. This could really be
one special holiday dinner.

Isabella almost purred, “Play your cards
right, and we might just end up in there anyway.” That got his
heart pumping and smell of the endorphins starting to flow as well.
She left him, her ass waving sensuously to head in to the “little
girl’s room” while considering a real surprise that would be in
store for him before the evening’s end.

In the lavatory, Isabella freshened up and
removed her dress to display a little, black, baby doll number that
would surely get his endorphins surging, if it doesn’t give him a
heart attack first. She recalled how she actually did have a client
die of a heart attack while feeding on him. The old man just got
too excited. She had fed to her fill and left him dead in that dive
of an apartment room that one rents by the hour, instead of by the
night. When she left, she had made a point of enthralling the
bellman who took their money and gave them the key to the room so
he would not be able to remember her when the constables came.

As she was leaving the room, she noticed that
the door had a full-length mirror that showed nothing of herself,
not even the way the nightie separated ever so slightly in the
middle to nicely display her sexy black panties and her long,
luscious bare legs. She was confident that if her legs were not as
young and muscular looking as they felt, to her gentleman they
would truly appear to be, due to her supernatural magic.

When she entered the living room, she was
disappointed not to find the man there to enjoy her surprise
entrance. A voice from the kitchen announced, “I’ll be there soon.
I can’t find the corkscrew for the wine.”

As the noise of his routing around in the
kitchen continued, she started looking at the titles of the books
on the shelf. He had a large collection of horror and science
fiction books, including a section of vampire tales. One of the
hardbacks was entitled, “The Blood Countess.” She removed that from
the shelf and found a picture of herself on the cover. It was an
old picture, truly, from back in her living days. She remembered
the long hours sitting for the large oil painting that was this
cover art. She slipped the book beside her purse on the couch. She
called out to the man in the kitchen, “Have you read this entire
book collection on your library shelves?”

“Not all, but most.”

“What about all these vampire books?” she
asked.

“Oh yes, especially the vampire books, I’m a
big fan of vampires.” He continued his rummaging while yelling out
from the kitchen.

“Phil, forget about the corkscrew. I really
did not come for the wine,” Isabella announced. She quickly walked
over to the couch that faced the kitchen so he would see her as he
entered into the room from the hallway. He had not yet seen her, as
the kitchen entrance had saloon-like bat doors, and he had been
busy as she walked by the kitchen. Isabella made a point of not
crossing her legs as he walked in. Now was not the time to be
demure.

As she waited for the entrance of her holiday
meal, she noted that the fireplace was going, but she also noted
that it was a false fireplace with a real fire burning within, she
could smell the gas and hear the gas flowing, most likely a human
would notice neither, noted both through her heightened vampire
senses. Phil had probably started it with a flick of a switch. It
did give off a nice warm glow, while giving warmth to the room,
giving a feeling of a real fireplace.

Just then Phil entered the room. When he saw
Isabella, she thought he was about to faint.
I guess this
nightie still has it.
Isabella noted that Phil had removed his
suit coat, tie and had unbuttoned his shirt halfway down his chest.
He had a very hairy chest.
What a turnoff.
He still looked
as if he was going to faint, so Isabella instructed, “Phil, why
don’t you come sit beside me.”

Isabella was planning to make a nice evening
of it until he showed off that horrid, hairy chest. When Phil
started to come to her, she asked, “Phil, dear, please bring me
that book on the other couch, the one sitting next to my purse.” He
did as requested just like a faithful servant.

Once he got seated, she noted that his heart
was beating very hard. She figured that his endorphins were just
gushing through his system, but Isabella thought,
I’ll try to
season my dinner just a little more.
“Phil, look at the book
cover and tell me what you see.”

He obeyed as a well-trained servant. He
started in with, “This is a great read. It’s all about this crazy
bitch who tries staying young by killing off virgins and bathing in
their blood.”

“Yes dear, but look more closely at the
cover, and tell me what you see,” Isabella said more
commandingly.

He looked at the cover of the book, then
looked at Isabella. “You know, if you put your hair up, you would
look a lot like this cover picture.”

As he studied her face, Isabella smiled and
let her fangs extract. Phil looked as if he was truly going to
faint. That would not have ruined her dinner, but some of the
seasoning would have been lost, so she ordered in her best enthrall
voice, “Do not faint.”

He did not faint.

As a look of total horror contorted his face,
Isabella slipped in close and kissed him. He shivered in shock. She
moved her lips down, to the side of his neck, oh so lightly. Phil
started shivering like a man with the black plague. Actually, he
was just reacting to being a highly-seasoned dinner – endorphin and
adrenaline overload for him, fine seasoning for her.

Isabella so slowly, almost lovingly, slipped
her fangs into his neck and began to shake in orgasmic pleasure as
Phil’s properly seasoned blood gushed down her throat. He gushed so
freely that she almost choked on the pure pleasure of tonight’s
holiday meal.

After Isabella had her fill of Phil, she
shoved his drained, lifeless corpse aside to drop down onto the
couch, where the momentum made him roll over and flop on the floor
at her feet. After that slightly painful comment about “the crazy
bitch” on the cover of her book, she had lost interest in Phil for
anything but dinner.

Originally, Isabella’s plans called for a
night of multiple dining, all possible without doing any killing.
Phil had changed those plans. Phil was so delightfully filling. It
was too early to head back to her room, so she chose to enjoy the
fake fire and read a good book about herself.

Chapter
Seventeen

The Mole is Back

After some very pleasant horizontal exercise
with my wife, I rolled over for a bit of a nap. My tripping to
dreamland was interrupted with Di feeling my back.
Hasn’t that
girl had enough?

“Jack, your mole is coming back.” Diana’s
voice was filled with concern.

I could sense her anxiety, so I answered the
concern in her voice, “The doctor said that was a possibility. I’ll
just set up another appointment and have it removed again.”

The next day, I did set up an appointment
with the dermatologist. Having gone through having one mole
removed, I was the cool, experienced one this time. I set up the
appointment for a Friday afternoon in hopes that Diana could start
her weekend a few hours early and take me to this appointment. My
plans turned out to be workable with Di.

Thursday evening the phone rang. I decided to
let one of the sisters (Di or Chris) get it, as I was getting to a
really good climax to the audio book I had been listening to for
days. The vampire of this tale, a real she-beast was about to get
hers.

The great climactic ending was interrupted
with Di calling down the stairs, “Jack, it’s your dermatologist on
the phone. The doctor wants to talk to
you
.”

“OK.” The phone was in easy reach, so all I
had to do was turn off the audio book machine, pick up the phone
and hit a big button that I recalled had “TALK’ on it. “Hello, this
is Jack.”

“Jack, this is Dr. Peterson. I understand you
have an appointment with me tomorrow afternoon pertaining to a
reemerging mole. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“If you can, I would like you to come down to
the lab and have some blood work done. Today is Wednesday, and on
Thursdays the lab is open evenings until 10 p.m. If you can get to
the lab today, I’ll set it up so that I will have the results in my
possession before you arrive for your appointment tomorrow
afternoon.”

Diana, still on the phone answered, “I can
drive him down right now.”

I thought,
That’s my girl,
but what I
said was, “I’ll go get the blood tests done and see you tomorrow,
doc.”

“Fine, until then, have a good evening.”

Right, a good evening sitting around the
waiting room of the lab for an hour or two, then getting
needled.
I considered taking my audio book with me, but I hate
earplugs, and people sitting around me might not have a strong
enough stomach to overhear this great vampire tale. As Di called
down, “Ready to go?” I decided to leave the book behind.

“Coming,” I called back.

Luckily, we only had to sit around for about
an hour before I was called in to have blood taken. Di spent the
time keeping Elaine happy. Chris had volunteered to watch Elaine
while we were out, but Di wanted to take Elaine along, to give Di
something to do in the waiting room.

When I was called in to “the Vampire Room,’
my favorite name for the room where blood is taken, the med-techs
were quick, proficient and almost painless—but not quite.

Chapter
Eighteen

Dr. Peterson

The next day I was on time for my
appointment. I was trying to play it cool, but Diana kept sharing
horror stories that friends at church and at work had told her,
stories with the person going through hellish treatments only to
die of cancer anyway. I know my loving with meant well but too much
information right now.

Eventually, my wife’s string of loving
nightmares ended with the nurse summoning me to see the doctor.

As I walked up to the door, I heard the
nurse’s voice so I asked, “OK if I take your shoulder?”

Taking my outstretched hand and placing it on
her shoulder, she answered, “No problem.” She led me down two
hallways to an empty exam room. I couldn’t help but notice that the
nurses were getting quite proficient at leading me around. I also
noticed that this nurse had no bra strap under her uniform or under
my touch.

After the usual taking of my blood pressure,
temperature, and pulse, Dr. Peterson finally made his appearance.
He waited until he sat down before he said anything. This was not a
good sign. “Mr. Poisner, you have signs of melanoma in your blood
tests. This means that you must likely have stage IV melanoma.
Stage IV is the hardest type to treat.” He paused to let that
information sink in, and then he continued, “What we need to do now
is to get you into a hospital for a total body scan to see where
and how far the melanoma may have spread. I feel I must tell you
this up front. The fact that the melanoma is spreading through your
blood instead of through your lymph nodes is a very bad sign. BUT,
don’t be picking out coffins just yet. Let us perform some hospital
tests and see what we shall see. Any questions?”

“Yes, what about treatment? How long have I
(the words “to live” choked in my throat and never made it out)?”
That was just two of a mass of swarming questions I could grab hold
of and put to words.

“Let’s just wait on that until after the body
scans are available. Any other questions?”

I was a little too freaked to verbalize any
of the other questions tumbling over each other in my mind for now,
“No. I guess we will just have to wait to see those hospital tests.
When will that be done?”

“I’ll have to make some calls and see when
the machine is free. I will get in touch with you as soon as
possible, but it may take a few days. How did you get to your
appointment?”

“My wife brought me.”

“Would you like me to get a nurse to bring
her in so I can discuss this with her?”

Recalling all the horror stories she was just
sharing with me, I answered, “No. I’d really like to keep this cool
until we know more from the tests. Friends have already filled my
wife with doom and gloom stories. I’d rather wait until we know
more before bringing her into this.”

“OK. Do you need me to help you back out to
the waiting area?”