24 . 05 . 2012
Prompt: Jackie just felt like writing vampires.
Super random quick write.
“The girl is dead.”
Quinn sighed and waved her officer away from the body with a flick of her wrist. “Third girl this week. And it’s only Tuesday.”
“At least we caught it,” the officer said and she nodded as she approached the body.
Her mouth was set in a firm, grim line as she looked down at the girl sprawled out on the cobbled floor. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle, snapped, her eyes were dark and sightless, gazing into nowhere. Quinn crouched down to brush a dark strand of hair from her cheek and shook her head. “She was so beautiful.” Another sigh and she was standing again. Her heels clicked loudly against the stone, a testament to her determined stride down the old convent’s hallway to the room where they kept it in chains. Her officer hurried behind her, huffing in his attempt to keep up with her spirited steps, but he almost ran into her back when she suddenly halted in the doorway.
She was pale, the officer was used to seeing Captain Fabray’s pale skin – it was like the skin of most of the members of their squad; skin that hadn’t seen daylight properly in years. But she was paler, ashen, as she looked into the room. And she was trembling. “Robert.” He jumped at his softly, sweetly spoken name. He hadn’t even known that she knew his name. “I want you to leave. Right now. If you want to live.”
“Is… Is it loose?” he asked, keeping his voice just as soft. He moved to peek into the room over her shoulder, but a quick hand on his chest held him back.
“No. It’s still there. Just go.”
“There are three dead officers on the floor in front of that thing, Officer. Unless you want to join the pile, I suggest you get the fuck out.”
“But what about?”
“I’ll be fine.” Her voice brokered no argument, so he gave a nod and made a hasty retreat, giving only one final look back and catching the tremble of her hand as she yanked the gun from her belt.
Once she heard the telltale sign of the officer leaving – the sound of the convent’s heavy wood front door creaking open and falling shut – she took a deep breath and walked into the room, gun in hand. She stepped over the first body and around the second and stopped in front of the third where it still hung in the teeth of a chained monster.
Said monster spit out the husk of its meal as easy as a watermelon seed. Her eyes followed the fall of the body, took in the mangled throat and the satisfied expression on its face that remained even in death.
“You’ll be fine?” the monster asked from where it sat, its voice concerned, so she turned her gaze back to it and smiled.
“Yes. I think I will be.” Usually, her upbeat attitude confused them. They liked fear on their victims. Liked to taste in the air, but this one, upon seeing her smile, smiled back with straight, perfect teeth through red, red blood. Its hair fell into its face in short streaks of bronze and eyes the color of corroded copper peeked out from behind the strands. Laugh lines marred the otherwise porcelain pale, porcelain smooth skin and collected at the corners of its eyes and framed its smiling mouth. It had dimples, she noticed – surprised she could see them through the dark and all the red.
“You’re very beautiful,” it said and she jolted as its voice shattered the silence and brought her back to awareness. How long had she been standing there staring at it? The hand not clutching her gun was clutching her chest in an attempt to calm her heart, but she was already too spooked and adrenaline was churning through her in a panic. It turned its head and closed its eyes as if it could hear her fear, then it sniffed and chuckled. “I almost got you.”
“Like you got them?”
“They thought I was beautiful, too,” it said defensively. “They offered themselves because I’m beautiful. Would you like to offer yourself?”
“Not right now. No.” The pout it gave her was both exaggerated by the size of its lips and made genuine by the disappointment in its eyes. “Tell me how you did this. You’re chained to a chair – how did you get all three of them into a thrall without touching them?”
It stared back at her bemusedly. Like someone who was looking at a painting in a museum or an animal in a zoo. She felt like a specimen in a glass case and she did not like it.
“Tell me,” she snapped. “How did you do it? How old are you?” When will you tear out of those chains? She didn’t ask the last question, she was too frightened. Never in her years and years of experience had she ever encountered such a strong one. It was wrapped with its arms at its sides in silver chains on a chair with crosses engraved into it, but it reclined like king on a throne. Three of her most trusted officers, highly trained and deadly, fully capable of handling most creatures she ordered them to guard, lie dead at its feet by their own choice. According to its story. Its back was to the lone window, but its eyes still managed to catch moonlight and glitter back at her. “How old are you?”
“Old,” it told her simply and a sigh of relief left her. It offered her a friendly smile and suggested, “Come sit in my lap?” She dropped her gun and did as she was told. “Will you wipe my face off?” She nodded and used the sleeve of her shirt. “You are very beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful, too.”
“You have no idea how long it took us to catch you,” he whispered.
“I thought that we caught you.”
He shook his head, smiled reassuringly as if he’d gently chided a child. “It took a lot of planning to lure you here. Your organization likes places like these. Abandoned old houses of religion – a comfortable cliché.” She couldn’t help but watch his lips as he talked. He still had a bit of red drying in the corner of his mouth. As if he knew her thoughts, his tongue flicked out and caught it. “We know everything about you. We’ve been wanting you for a long time.”
“Yes. Do you want us, too?” She nodded and smiled at the delight that flooded his beautiful face. “Mistress will be so happy.”
“Yes. Our Mistress. Our greatest love. Our star. Our everything,” he told her, eyes glittering, so she nodded and stood when she heard the snap of chains. He stood and shook the broken links away before grabbing her hand and pulling her from the room and down the long hallway. He stopped in the doorway and she almost slammed into his back when he halted. “Did I do good, Mistress?”
Her voice was like warm honey, it smoothed over Quinn’s skin, clung there, sweet and golden. She didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know what sense to use first, but she found herself peeking over his shoulder to take a look at her. “So good, sweet boy.”
He dropped Quinn’s hand with a carelessness that she didn’t even register and rushed into the room to fall before her on his knees and wrap his arms around her middle. She smoothed a hand through his hair and turned her amber eyes to Quinn. She was even more beautiful than she had been when Quinn had first seen her on the floor; her eyes were deep and saw everything, her neck was deliciously chubby and straight… Quinn wanted to press kisses into it, so when a hand was held out to her, she jumped at the chance to get closer.
She was small and soft, so Quinn cradled her cold body to her own warm chest and pressed her kisses into that smooth brown skin over and over again until she couldn’t think anymore.
Sam caught the girl when she fell and Mercedes smiled at him appreciatively.
“Let’s all go home, sweet boy.”