Chapter 5

My extremely long life, as well as my natural role as the apex predator of mankind, would inevitably change my view, not only of myself, but also of humanity, society and civilization as a whole.

I'd live to meet great, talented people and witness important moments in history, but I'd be forced to watch all of the people around me gradually age and die, including my loved ones. The shackles of law and order were meaningless to me, but I would forever exist in a callous prison of sunlight and bloodlust. I'd have a series of gorgeous, wonderful lovers and the occasional "wife", but I'd never know the satisfaction of meeting and growing old alongside the love of my life.

Though I would live and hide amongst normal, ordinary people, I would forever be apart from them.

This time, my slumber was much more peaceful. There were no nightmares of me becoming some sort of uncontrollable, rampaging and blood-guzzling monster, only thoughts of Karlie.

And you can most likely guess what kind of sweet dreams those were.

Strangely, mixed in with images and scenes of a naked Karlie writhing and moaning in pleasure beneath me, there were flashes of another woman. One that I could not recognize or remember, but for some reason I felt a very strong affection for. It felt almost as if we were connected in some deep-seated way. I'd never felt anything like it before.

She was a slightly older woman, with an almost aristocratic or maybe even regal bearing to her. I had seen and met my fair share of privileged and stuck-up women before, but this was the very first who I actually believed deserved to be called "princess". And the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous, as well as very voluptuous, certainly didn't hurt either. Smooth and flawless alabaster skin made a spectacular contrast to her long raven black, lustrous hair. Her pale ice-blue eyes drew me in and her full red lips seemed to whisper my name. Or, were they moaning it?

It was a strange experience, almost surreal in fact, but very far from unpleasant.

When I eventually woke up, I could still feel the sun well above the horizon, even through the building's walls, the heavy curtains blocking the windows and my bed. My digital alarm clock, which I had pulled down off of my bedside table, confirmed that there were still quite a few hours until sunset. I felt completely rested and alert though ... maybe one of the benefits of being well fed was not needing as much sleep and being able to stay awake later in the day.

And of course, that thought led straight back to Karlie.

The bright side of my late night encounter with her was that I was left feeling just great. Noticeably better than after I had drank animal blood, in fact. Stronger, calmer, more alert, more focused.

Perhaps human blood was the perfect nourishment to my unique physiology. Thanks to some particular biological component, or maybe it was due to some mysterious ephemeral and spiritual aspect – the human soul, or something along those lines. That would kinda suck, seeing as I had been hoping on surviving mostly on animal blood. After trying it though, I had to reluctantly admit to myself that even if I wanted to give it up, I'm not to sure if I would be able to resist the temptation of human blood for too long.

On the other hand, maybe it was just because of the overt sexual element of feeding, or because it was Karlie in particular, a woman I knew, cared for and maybe even loved. It had been, without a doubt, much more exciting and pleasurable to acquire with her than through a styrofoam cup.

Still, I felt more than a bit guilty about feeding off of her. I'd involuntarily influenced her in some way, I was absolutely sure of that.

Was it any better than some guy taking unfair advantage of a drunken girl at a frat party? Or some sleazebag who slipped a roofie into an unsuspecting woman's drink at a nightclub? Had she been truly able to consent, or did I in a way rape her? Did the fact that she enjoyed it and wouldn't remember what exactly happened mitigate what I had done in some way? Then there was the little detail that, though I had absolutely no shred of respect for John, he and Karlie were a couple, and a part of me felt like a shit by getting in between them.

Needless to say, my relationship with her (if there still was one) was on very fragile ground.

I shook off all of those negative thoughts and emotions for the time being. I'd deal with them eventually, but for now the last thing that I wanted to be was one of those whiney emo vampires.

"Woe is me ... I'm a cursed creature of darkness. I can't have normal relationships ... anybody who gets too close to me is bound to get hurt."

If I ever start sounding like that, stuck in a downward spiral of self-loathing and pity, I'll stake myself in the heart and save everybody around me the trouble and aggravation!

More than ready to now face the coming day - or should I say night - I crawled out from under my bed and went straight to my laptop to check my e-mail.

In the midst of a couple of SPAM messages there were responses from practically all of the people I had sent a teaser of my article to. A few were flat-out uninterested, though one complemented me on my work. I decided to go with one news blog which focused on crime in the city, seeing as they were also interested in any follow-up articles that I could later offer.

Extremely happy and proud of my success, I sent them the full article and my payment information. I wouldn't be paid a lot, it was a small article after all, but it was a serious piece with my name on it.

It seems that a little thing like dying wasn't going to derail my dreams of being a reporter.

Feeling inordinately proud of myself, I started to plan out what exactly I wanted to accomplish tonight, and in the coming days, as I dressed in jeans, t-shirt, hoodie and a brand new pair of tactical boots. All in black of course; I was a creature of the night now, so I might as well dress the part.

First and foremost in my mind, I wanted to head back over to Leslieville. With a couple of maps and a plan of action, I could finally start hunting down some leads to the Winter Born Motorcycle Club. I couldn't help but growl just thinking about finding those responsible for my death and getting some well deserved payback, especially their leader, and my murderer, Leon. Unfortunately, it might actually take a few days at best, maybe even a week or two, for some noticeable results to start coming in. That is, even if there are any to come in.

Of course, if I could find a cop, get a few minutes alone with him to "convince" him to give me some confidential police information...

Speaking of information, I still had the notebook as well as the two cellphones that I salvaged from my first run-in with them. There had to be some valuable information in them – names, contacts, meeting places ... I really should go through them and gleam any and all information that I could.

Then there were the longer term concerns that I needed to look into. Though I had just sold an article, I needed a new form of stable income, so finding some sort of job was a priority. One on the nightshift was crucial, of course.

I might not need to eat as much normal, human food anymore, but I still had rent to pay, as well as utilities, taxes, and many other incidentals (new clothes to replace my bloody and bullet-riddled ones comes to mind). Also, I really wanted to find a new place to live. Hopefully, a place that I could own outright, not just rent, with no pesky roommates around to ask inconvenient questions. Or worse yet, interrupt my seduction of some fair young maiden, my fangs well on their way into her slender neck.

And there I was, distracted by memories of my encounter with Karlie again. I could remember every detail perfectly, almost as if I was reliving it.

I woman I knew and cared deeply for. I woman who I believe cared for me, as well. The feel of her writhing body pressed firmly against me as my hands slowly traveled over her smooth curves ... the sound of her quickening breath and pulse, and later of her moans of pleasure ... the scent of her sweat, soap, hair products and body lotion gradually being overwhelmed by her growing excitement ... the sweet and intoxicating taste of her blood on my lips...

"Des. Oh my Des..."

I shook my head almost violently, dispelling the powerful images, as well as the feelings they inspired, from my mind.

I mostly succeeded. I at least managed to curb my growing erection and sprouting fangs.

Back to the wish list that I was compiling - I certainly wouldn't mind having a better way to get around. The idea of a vampire dependent on public transportation is more than a bit sad. I should start looking at the personals for a cheap car or maybe even a van. With tinted windows and heavy curtains, I might just be able to sleep in it during the day, if I ever needed to. On the other hand, a motorcycle certainly had some appeal. I had really enjoyed riding that one I had "liberated" from the Winter Born.

I also needed to set up a secure and dependable way to get blood. The easiest solution that I could see was to set up a standing order of animal blood at a convenient butcher shop or two. For a special treat, I can probably find an in at a local blood bank and appropriate a bag or two every once in a while. Or maybe I can cut out the middle man and arrange for a handful of willing ... donors, I guess I would call them. I'd really have to think hard about the subject before making any decisions.

But, of course, I should think fast; I wasn't that sure when I was going to be hungry again.

First things though, I wanted to check out The Outdoorsman to see if I was in any trouble, following the shootout. I needed to know if the owner was still mesmerized into believing that he was my friend and if the cops bought the scenario that he had hastily constructed, or if there was a manhunt on the lookout for me now.

That could certainly put a crimp on any of my future plans.

So, pulling out my cellphone and the business card that he had given me, I called Rob Holdstock. After only two rings, his familiar gruff voice answered.

"Hey Rob. It's Desmond."

"Desmond! How's it going?" He certainly sounded happy, but there was something else there in his voice.

"Good, but I'm actually calling to find out how you're doing." I was keeping it vague, just in case his phone was tapped and someone was listening in.

"Everything is fine over here. The cops and their crime science investigators are long gone, but I won't be reopening the shop for a couple of days. They're not letting me inside though." He paused and grunted in annoyance. "I can't even have the place cleaned up or put in new windows until they release the scene."

"That sucks. Sorry." I really didn't know what else to say.

"Well, it could be worse, right? Especially if you hadn't happened to be there at the right time." He answered a bit more brightly. "Listen, I'm not too big on speaking over the phone. Do you want to meet up and talk?"

That was exactly what I wanted, so I readily agreed. He told me that I could meet him at the back door to his shop – though the cops didn't want him moving around the store, he was allowed to use the back stockroom and office areas.

Our meeting set, he gave a short, gruff, "See ya soon," and then hung up.

Just then a noise caught my attention. Stretching out and focusing my hearing, there was the unmistakable metal scraping on metal sound of a key entering a lock. I then heard the front door of the apartment open, followed closely by someone entering, arguing heatedly apparently to themselves, with the door slamming closed behind them.

Fuck. John was home.

"Don't be such a pussy Rick, and quit your fucking whining! Nothing is going to go wrong, as long as you stick to the God damned plan!" John said, his voice drenched with anger and contempt.

I'd heard him speak to people like that many times before. He even tried it with me once - the flinty stare I gave him shut him up pretty quick though.

Ha! I'd really like to see him try it again.

Rick was one of John's work colleagues. I happened to meet him once and I have to say that I wasn't overly impressed – though a good looking and apparently successful guy, he seemed a bit dim and dull. Instead of a friend, he was treated much more like some sort of minion or henchman, expected to keep his mouth shut and just follow orders. And for some strange reason, he seemed completely OK with that, as well as being an emotional and psychological punching bag for John to vent his frustrations on.

"Relax." John continued speaking much more calmly and in a softer tone of voice. "I've been working on this for years, checking all the angles, planning for every contingency and setting everything up firmly in place. This setup's foolproof; there's no way that they can trace the transfers back to us."

There was a slight pause and then an exasperated sigh, followed by the sound of someone flopping down on the couch. "Fine, but this is the last time I'm going to explain, so listen well numb nuts. It's going to take people weeks, if not months for someone to eventually notice the discrepancies in some of the accounts. Then, it's going to take the investigators almost twice as long to eventually determine just how much money is missing, and from how many and which accounts exactly. When they finally reach that phase of the investigation, any and all electronic traces that could possibly lead back to us will be deleted, or buried deeply under a mountain of leads, pointing to nearly half the company."

Naughty, naughty John. Embezzlement and theft. I honestly wasn't that surprised though; it certainly fit his character. And he sounded completely confident that he would get away with it, completely scot-free.

'There's no way in hell that I'm going to let that happen.' I thought to myself, a feral grin on my face.

It wasn't because I wanted to save his company's and their clients' cash. I honestly couldn't give a rat's ass. I just wanted to see Jon finally get what was coming to him and have all of his well crafted plans for his bright and successful future go up in smoke.

I guess that I could just mesmerize him into confessing his scheme to the cops. No, it would probably be much simpler to just push him into letting himself get caught. That would pretty much guarantee his arrest.

"All we have to do is cool our heels, let the money sit tight for a long while, and we'll all walk away with at least half a million each." Jon continued, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice.

'And then, there's all that cash... ' a new thought entered my mind. A very tempting one that could solve a lot of my problems. 'Why not put it to good use?'

I could do it, but not right then. I needed to think on it for a while. Make sure that I did it right ... and for the right reasons.

For now, I had someplace to be.

I rushed out while John was still on his cell. That way we wouldn't have to speak to each other, and I wouldn't be forced to punch him if he decided to piss me off. But before I did leave, I remembered to add a couple of knives to my ensemble – a three and a quarter inch hunting knife tucked snugly into each boot, with a six inch kukri (or Gurkha knife) in a sheath, at my lower back.