Blood Groove (15 page)

“Not bad for a white boy,” Olive said. “What you think, Leo?”

Leonardo laughed from somewhere overhead. “Looks like my little brother on a cold day.”

Olive turned her back to the boy and stuck out her behind. “Like this, white boy? Like a little double-dip of chocolate?”

The boy trembled so hard that when the first drops of milky ejaculation shot forth, they fanned out in a spray in the moonlight. It wasn’t a full climax, just a hint of one, enough to madden him even more. Yet he did not move or speak, other than a low, keening whine.

Olive slapped her hip and strutted over to where Danielle stood, similarly immobile. “I think I’d like to see them big ol’ white titties,” Olive said, and winked.

Danielle managed to resist the command for a full second. Then she reached behind her neck, untied the halter, and let the front fall. She had never exposed her breasts anywhere this public, and the roiling mixture of shame, excitement, and fear made her nipples harden. She pulled the garment over her head and dropped it at her feet.

Olive stepped closer and slapped lightly at Danielle’s breasts. “They ain’t so big when they’re flopping loose, are they?” she said with a laugh. “Big enough for you, Leo?”

Leo dropped from the ceiling beside her, landing with the barest impact and making Danielle jump. He bent down and licked her closest nipple. His tongue was as cold as his touch, and she whimpered at the mix of disgust and arousal. “More than a mouthful’s a waste, isn’t that what they say?” He tousled Danielle’s hair the way he might pet a dog.

Olive turned to the boy. “Come on over here and give these a suck, why don’t you? Then tell us what you think.”

Oh, my God
, Danielle thought,
he’s going to put his
mouth
on me
. She watched the boy approach, preceded by his erect penis; a thick droplet dangled from it and swayed when he walked. He did not look at her face at all, only her breasts, and when he was close enough he took her by the upper arms and bent his mouth to the same nipple Leo had licked. With no preliminaries he sucked it hard into his mouth, his clumsy teenage teeth painfully raking it.

“Ahhhh!”
Danielle cried, and squirmed in his grip. She watched Olive’s face scrunch up in concentration, while Leo just continued to smile. The boy did not let up, sucking hard and using his tongue with apparently all his strength. Danielle wanted to beg him to stop, beg Olive to
let
him stop, but she could not muster the words. She grabbed on to his wiry forearms to keep from falling over.

“That’s enough,” Olive said at last. The boy pulled his mouth away with a pop, and Danielle cried out again. She cupped her breast with both hands, wincing at the pain. Even in the half-light, she could see the hickeylike bruise already forming.

She had no time to recover, though. “Okay, Snow White, on your knees,” Olive said. “Show our friend a little hospitality, too.”

Danielle’s eyes opened wide as she realized what Olive meant. She tried with all her might to speak, to resist, to say, “
Hell
, no.” Suddenly the whole room tilted, and her field of vision swung crazily. She thought she might be passing out from stress, but it was simply her legs obeying the girl’s command, folding and lowering her. They seemed to be completely disconnected from her conscious will, like every other part of her body. Now she was kneeling, looking up at Olive, aware that the boy’s manhood bobbed in front of her face.
She wouldn’t turn to it, she wouldn’t look at it, she couldn’t
possibly
. . .

She turned and looked at it. It was pale in the moonlight, and the tiny droplet still hanging from it glimmered. It came closer, and then Danielle realized it was
she
who was moving, leaning toward it. She clenched her teeth and pursed her lips. She wouldn’t, they couldn’t make her, it was something she’d never done, not even in college . . .

She opened her mouth and swallowed the head of his cock.

Olive slipped behind the boy and pressed her breasts against his back. She stood on tiptoe to lick his earlobes and whispered, “You know what I’m thinking about?”

He shook his head.

She ran one hand through his black hair. “I’m thinking about how I wish I could see the look on your face when I do
this
!”

She bit down on the side of his neck. Her jaws crunched as they pinned his jugular against her fangs and penetrated through skin, muscle, and arterial wall.

He cried out as the mysterious control was suddenly broken and scrambled to throw her off. In the process he kneed Danielle in the head, knocking her backward onto the floor. Olive grabbed a handful of his hair and easily pushed him down, holding him in a half-crouching position, her mouth still affixed to his throat. Thin ribbons of blood leaked out and trickled down his chest, and he screamed in loud, high-pitched wails. For an instant his eyes met Danielle’s and he screeched,
“Madre Dios, por favor!”

Danielle’s skull rang from the blow, and bits of glass cut into her bare back. She shook her head, almost gagging at the taste left in her mouth, and then realized with a start that she was no longer held by their vile influence. This was her chance.

Olive rode the boy down to the ground until he sprawled limp and lifeless, the black girl still attached to his neck. His eyes rolled back, and he fully climaxed as he died, his erection twitching.

Heedless of her state of undress, Danielle jumped up and ran as hard as she could for the loading dock. She could hide in the field until daybreak, and then worry about finding more clothes and getting back to town. The most important thing now was getting away from these monsters.

With no warning Leonardo appeared in front of her, dropping from the rafters overhead and landing with barely a sound. His hand was around her throat before she even saw him move, the cold fingers like iron. “Don’t be a jive turkey, sweetheart,” he said warningly. She grabbed his arm and fought with all her strength, kicking at his knees and groin. He merely smiled.

Olive huddled over the boy, drinking the last possible bit, until finally she released him and staggered back. She wiped the blood at her mouth with the back of her hand and tugged her tube top back into place. “Wow,” she gasped. “I love them last drops.” Then she looked around. “Hey! Where’s Snow White Titties?”

Leonardo pushed Danielle backward until they stood beside Olive. Danielle glanced down; the boy was unmistakably dead. The only visible wounds were the two punctures at his neck, from which slight trickles ran down under the curve of his body and dripped onto the floor.

The sight sent her into a frenzy, and she teared at Leonardo’s arm and fingers. Not until that moment did she fully admit the truth: these teenagers, these
kids
, were genuine blood-drinking
vampires
. And she was their second course for the night.

Suddenly Olive grabbed her chin and turned her face so that she looked into the black girl’s dark eyes. “Behave yourself, honky,” she said seriously.

And with an inner scream, Danielle felt the fascination reassert itself, wrapping her in desire for this child. She whined in defeat, and when Leonardo released her she didn’t move.

“Be right back,” Leonardo said. He grabbed the boy’s body by the ankle, dragged him to the loading dock, and kicked him over the edge. To dispose of him for good they’d drive down to the riverbank and dump him after cutting him up so it looked like he’d been caught in a propeller. He’d wash up two hundred miles downstream, partially decomposed, another John Doe corpse.

For good measure, Leonardo drove his middle finger straight into the boy’s heart. It wasn’t as satisfying as when he did it to a white person, but that couldn’t be helped.

He looked at the boy’s slack face in the moonlight for a long time, pondering things that once would’ve made him laugh.

   Mark stumbled up the stairwell, every step taking what seemed like an hour. He felt weird, lethargic, apathetic. He had never been drunk as a mortal; was this what it felt like? The idea of continuing to walk, even to
move
, filled him with both exhaustion and, oddest of all, despair. Had just the slightest touch of the gray powder done that?

He leaned against the concrete beside the door. Despite having not fed since the inept robber at his store, he felt no desire for blood
at all
. This was what had killed Toddy, and probably Fauvette as well. The decay of his lovely Princess of the Night suddenly made sense: the powder erased the hunger for blood, and somehow made the very thought of feeding appalling.

He had to warn the others. He pulled open the door and walked uncertainly into the warehouse. Olive and Leo stood around the woman from the cemetery, who was topless
and understandably terrified. Distantly he recalled that she had been his victim, and they were saving her for him. Also, wasn’t she someone important, a cop or lawyer or something . . . ?

“I . . . you guys . . .” he started to say. He could barely stay on his feet. Leonardo frowned at him, but Olive paid no attention.

He sighed and shrugged. “Ah, forget it. Do what you want with her.” He turned and stumbled back toward the door to the old warehouse offices.

“What was that all about?” Leonardo asked after the door slammed.

“Who cares?” Olive said brightly. She pulled down her tube top and pressed her own breasts against Danielle’s. “Do you like this?” Olive giggled.

“Y-yes,” Danielle breathed, eyes closed. The other boy, the one who’d first enthralled her, had just made a brief appearance, but she now totally belonged to Olive. The girl’s big breasts cushioned her own, the dusky skin like a cold, soft compress.

“How ’bout this?” Leonardo suddenly whispered right in her ear. She gasped as she felt his body against her back. He slipped his hands just inside the waistband of her jeans. Then she felt his lips against the skin of her shoulder blades, his hands snaking up under her arms to fondle both her breasts and Olive’s. She almost sobbed, anticipating the teeth in her neck.

Olive unsnapped Danielle’s jeans and slid them down her legs, kneeling as she went. She lifted one of Danielle’s feet, then the other, out of the pants. She trailed her icy tongue up Danielle’s leg, then bit through the thin strip of material where her panties crossed her hips. The garment slid down her other leg.

“Hey, what’s this? The little butterfly’s got herself a
stinger.” She ripped the knife free from Danielle’s calf and studied it. “Is this your favorite scalpel, Dr. Snow White Titties?” She tossed it into the darkness, where it landed with a clatter.

Danielle stood helpless, and moaned in a thin, trembling whine. This was it.

Olive turned her and knelt, cold hands massaging her rear end. “Like sucking ice cream through a straw,” she said. “But that’s usually sweetest.”

“And make sure we leave some for Mark,” Leonardo agreed. He knelt beside her, fondling Danielle’s other buttock.

Danielle could not find the will to turn, and her gaze was drawn to the moon shining through the window. She whimpered as they painfully kneaded her flesh, their cold hands immensely strong. She would be bruised all over, if she lived long enough for them to form.

She felt cold lips on the soft skin of her right buttock, followed by a sharp stinging sensation. Her eyes opened wide and she let out an involuntary
“Aggh!”
She cut her eyes as far as possible to see what had happened—were they giving her an injection?—but she saw nothing in her limited field of vision. Then she felt the same thing on her other hip.

Oh, God, oh, sweet Jesus help me
, she prayed. These disgusting creatures, these unhuman beings, were
biting her on the ass
.

The sharp stings faded to a dull ache, a painful sucking as they drew blood through the thick gluteus muscles. The cold lips began to warm, and something hot trickled down her leg. She whimpered again, tears of pain and fury running down her face, but she could not move or speak or resist. Their icy mouths felt like the maws of giant leeches, and the wet sounds they made as they
drank her blood
filled her with disgust.

The moon had crept several degrees along its arc by the time she looked at it again. She covered her breasts and sobbed, the pain in her rear now fading to sore numbness. She thought she heard Olive laugh, a wet, slimy sound emitted through a mouthful of blood.

She felt a cold hand slide up between her thighs. She couldn’t tell which of her tormentors it was, but they sought her wet center with unerring accuracy. She gasped as her body responded, leaving her trembling on the edge of release but never quite making it.

Then with no warning Olive psychically released her. And finally she screamed.

   Zginski held up his hand. “That is sufficient. I believe we have established with certainty that the world is now very complicated.”