Chapter 4

October Thirtieth

Nate Belmont grinned at his brother Ed as they exited the ancient hunting lodge with the black and tan coon hounds panting at their heels. It felt good to be back in the forest. Forty years ago, when they were kids, they had spent a good part of every fall and winter at this remote place. Back then it had been a necessity: without the meat taken during the hunting excursions, their large catholic family, living on the income of a single coal miner, would have teetered on the brink of starvation. Now, with Ed a successful private contractor and Nate safely ensconced in the ranks of middle management of a Fortune 500 company, it was just for fun. Nate had to admit, though, that his mouth was watering more than a little at the thought of raccoon stuffed with green apples and onions and topped with strips of salted pork.

Although October had almost drawn to a close, snow had not yet fallen. The dry brown and red leaves crinkled under their feet as they walked deeper into the woods. They couldn't have asked for a more perfect night. The air was crisp and clear, and the trees were bathed in the silvery light of the waxing moon. With low whistles, Nate and Ed sent the dogs ahead to sniff out and tree their quarry.

Moments later, the hounds began to bay. Nate and Ed turned toward the sound and picked up the pace, almost jogging through the starkly lit woods. The barks grew more frenzied and increased in volume as they closed the distance. A broad, gleeful smile spread across Nate's face: these days, the mutts might be more accustomed to lounging on the sofa than tracking down varmints, but they could still do the job. He twisted his head, and gave his brother a terse nod, indicating that Ed could have the first kill of the evening. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he reached up to flick on his head mounted light. With the moon so bright, it wasn't really necessary, but every little bit helped.

The dogs were soon in sight, barking up into the bare, skeletal limbs of a large maple. Nate bobbed his head to play the light through the branches. There was a flash of greenish yellow as the beam of his headlamp reflected off a raccoon's eyes. Ed brought the butt of his rifle to his shoulder, peering down through the phosphorescent marked open sights. Many hunters preferred shotguns for hunting coons at night, but the brothers preferred to test their skill with high velocity .22's.

The rifle barked once. The raccoon jerked violently backwards, and fell to the forest floor. Nate quickly ran over to the trunk to hold the dogs back from the kill. He stood, giving his brother light and holding the dogs, as Ed skinned and field dressed the animal. It was a big one. So big that it would probably have to marinate for a day or more before it would be tender enough to eat, but, in the end, it would be delicious.

Before Ed could finish his task, the dogs began to whine and tried to pull free from Nate's grasp. He wondered if they had already caught the scent of another animal. Only one way to find out, he thought as he released them. To his surprise, the dogs didn't go galloping off into the woods barking joyfully. Instead, they skulked back in the direction of the camp, crying and whining, their tails tucked between their legs and their hackles raised. A shiver ran up his spine.

As he watched the dogs vanish in the distance, the sound of a stick breaking beneath a foot caused Nate to jerk around to shine his light frantically through the trees of the suddenly foreboding forest. He directed the beam toward dimly perceived movement, and started in surprise when it illuminated a young woman in obvious distress. The poor dear must be freezing, he thought, as he took in the fact that she was dressed only in a light skirt and thin blouse. On the heels of this thought came the realization that she was beautiful. With a hint of guilt, his eyes traced lasciviously over her lush, voluptuous curves

The woman stopped a few yards from the men, and, teetering, grabbed hold of the trunk of an oak to steady herself.

"Please help me," she whispered in a voice so low that Nate had to strain to hear it.

Ed, his gun again in his hands, walked quickly to the woman's side and peered out into the dark depths of the forest, unsuccessfully seeking whatever had frightened the dogs and might be chasing her.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss?" Ed asked.

"I'm so hungry," she hissed.

The malevolence in her voice brought Nate's eyes back to her face. He stumbled backwards in fright and shock as the soft, silvery light of the moon reflected red from the eyes of a predator and gleamed off the long, sharp fangs that were revealed by her snarl.

She abandoned the pretense of feebleness. Her hand, held straight and flat, flashed out in a motion too quick for Nate's eyes to follow. He heard a sickening crunch as it connected with his brother's throat. Ed's gun fell to the ground at his feet as he staggered backwards, clutching silently at his neck. Nate pulled his own rifle from his shoulder as Ed fell to his knees, his face noticeably swollen and blue even in the pale lunar light.

Before Nate could raise his weapon, the woman was upon him. She took hold of his flannel shirt just below the collar and hurled him to the ground. The impact sent his gun flying from his hands. He started to pull himself to his feet to scramble after it when her foot came down upon his chest, pinning him helplessly to the forest floor.

She bent over his supine form to grab hold of the waistband of his jeans. With a violent jerk she tore the garment down his legs, the rough fabric abrading his skin. Goose bumps rose from his exposed parts at the touch of the cool fall air. Straddling his hips she squatted down to sit on top of him.

"It's your lucky night," she said as she smiled hungrily down upon him. "I'm in need of more than just your blood."

Nate gaped up at her, his mind struggling to comprehend the fact that the thing that sat astride his hips wasn't truly human. He began to pant with fear as he watched the tip of her tongue slide sensuously over the long, sharp teeth that gleamed so brightly in the moonlight. She leaned over and inhaled deeply, seemingly smelling him.

Squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sight of her pale face, he whispered, "This can't be happening. Vampires aren't real."

He flinched as her palm slapped hard against his forehead. "Deny my existence all you want. You're still meat, in all senses of the word."

Nate roused himself from his numb stupor as she started to pull the skirt up her legs. Without warning, he swung his fist at her jaw with all of his strength. She saw the blow coming and jerked her head to the side to avoid it. Before he could withdraw and swing again, she caught his arm in both of her hands.

"Shame on you," she chided. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's not nice to hit a girl?"

She grunted with effort, and Nate screamed as his arm was wrenched from its socket.

Biting down on his pain, Nate clawed beneath the collar of his shirt with his remaining hand and pulled out the small gold cross that his wife had given him for their anniversary years before. Brandishing it triumphantly, he thrust it in front her face.

Giggling with delight, she caught his wrist and held him steady as she plucked the cross from his grasp. She examined it closely before pulling the chain up over the top of his head.

"It's very pretty. Thank you," she said mockingly as she hung it around her own neck. Still holding his wrist in one hand, she reached down to pat his cheek gently with the other. "Poor baby," she said with exaggerated sympathy. "What did you think would happen? That I would cower back while you ran away? Sorry, sweety, but it just doesn't work that way outside the movies. You see, my god is a lot older than yours, and, unlike you, I know mine exists. I've seen it." Her eyes grew haunted at the memory, and a shudder of fear and revulsion rippled down her body.

Visibly steeling herself, she again smiled down at him, "Enough about that, though. Time to get back to business."

Using one hand, she slowly pulled his arm upward. He was awed by her strength: struggle as he might, he couldn't stop the movement or pull himself free. When his arm was straight, she struck at his elbow with her other hand. He heard a wet snap as the joint gave way. Oddly, he felt nothing for a moment, but then agony spiked white hot through his nervous system. She laughed wildly as screams of pain erupted from his throat.

She reached down between their bodies, and he felt her fingers, cold as the grave, caress his fear shriveled manhood. She gave the flaccid flesh a few desultory strokes before sliding her hands up to his shoulders.

He looked up at her through watery eyes, his expression a mixture of defiance, agony and terror. "I wouldn't give a blasphemous bitch like you the pleasure," he forced out through the pain.

With a throaty laugh, she replied, "Maybe not, but it won't be for lack of trying."

She leaned down over him, and he felt a pinprick as one of her fangs pierced his shoulder slightly through his shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief as his cock surged to life, betraying him despite all of his pain and fear. He then whimpered as his manhood was engulfed by the vampire's cold, clammy sex.

"Mmm," she moaned as she began to raise and lower herself on his member. "That's better. I haven't had a good, hard cock in months."

He hunched upwards, trying to dislodge her from his hips.