Karr stared at her chest.
She set her wine on the bar and slid off the stool. “Andre.”
His gaze met hers. “Kela, darling. Did Chabeau ask you about the portrait?”
“She’s agreed to pose,” Roland said.
“I’m so pleased. We’ll look stunning together.”
Kela glanced at Roland. “Together?”
Roland leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I’ll explain later.”
“I hope you’re planning on attending my birthday party,” Karr said. “Chabeau did pass along my personal invitation?”
“She’s coming,” Roland said.
“Is it a dress affair?” Kela asked, pleased she’d managed to keep a straight face.
“Definitely. Clothing is required until midnight. After that, I’d prefer to see you wearing nothing more than that magnificent cross.”
Kela had no intention of posing for a portrait with Karr or attending his party. She wanted to get away from Karr and his guests as quickly as possible, but she had to see Jenna, and Roland had some explaining to do.
“Is Jenna here? I’d love to say hello.”
“She’s in the dom chamber. Perhaps Roland could fetch her.”
The pointed look that Karr gave Roland seemed more like an order than a request.
“I’ll be right back,” Roland said.
He rushed off to do Karr’s biding, making Kela wonder how much control Karr wielded over Roland. And what had Karr meant by dom chamber? Jenna wasn’t into the domination and submission scene.
Karr edged closer. “You haven’t joined the party?”
Maybe Roland liked kissing Karr’s ass, but Kela wasn’t going to do it. “I’m not into group sex.”
“What a pity. A body as beautiful as yours should be shared,” Karr said, his hand hovering close to her breasts. He didn’t touch her, but having his hand so near reminded Kela of a cobra ready to strike.
“Roland and I are engaged. That may not mean anything to you, but it means something to me.”
“Chabeau loves you. You should remain faithful if that’s what he desires.”
Spotting Jenna walking toward her, Kela gasped. Unbelievable.
Her friend was wearing a revealing outfit of alternating leather bands and chains that left her breasts and her pussy exposed. Not only exposed but shaved and pierced. Jenna who hated needles had rings in her nose and nipples and studs in her eyebrows, ears and lips. She’d cut her long hair and sported an explosion of spikes. In one gloved hand, she held a riding crop.
“What the hell?”
“Hey, Kela.”
“What’s with the chains, the piercings and your hair? Have you gone mad?”
“Andre likes my hair,” Jenna said, walking away from Kela to stand beside Karr. “And what Andre likes I like.”
Kela watched in disbelief as Karr twisted one of the metal rings piercing Jenna’s nipple. Jenna moaned and smiled at Kela.
“My show is about to start, you want to watch?”
Kela had no idea what Jenna was talking about, but having seen enough she shook her head.
Jenna hooked her gloved hand around Karr’s arm and with her ass exposed, the two strolled away from the bar.
Kela turned to Roland. “Is she on drugs?”
“She’s high on Andre.”
“What is it with you and Jenna? It’s as though the two of you have joined a cult and can’t think for yourselves.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” Eager to get out of the penthouse, Kela headed straight for the elevator.
Roland grasped her by the waist, forcing her to walk when she wanted to run. As she and Roland stepped into the car, Kela heard an odd scream. “What was that?”
A sly grin curved his lips. “Jenna likes the crop.”
“She hits people?”
“Get a clue, Kela. She’s Andre’s submissive. It’s what gets her off.”
The elevator doors closed and Kela grabbed Roland’s arm. “She’s our friend. You can’t let Andre hurt her.”
“She’s happy, Kela.”
“Happy?” Kela shook her head. “That’s not Jenna.”
Roland slid his arm around Kela’s waist and held her close to his side as they walked to his apartment. Once inside, he drew her down on the sofa next to him.
“Seeing Jenna, the party, all of it was a shock,” Roland said. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”
“You like living here? Going to parties like that?”
“It’s fun. You’ve got to be less inhibited. I really need you to attend Andre’s birthday party.”
“No way. I’m not attending his orgy.”
“It’s not an orgy. We’re having cake and champagne. Everyone is bringing gifts. It’s important to me.”
“He told me that clothing was required until midnight and after that he wanted to see me in my cross. He expects me to get naked for him.”
“He wants you to be his living art for the event. It’s quite an honor.”
Kela shuddered. “Believe me, Roland. It’s not an honor.”
“He likes you and he admires your cross. If you don’t want to come and help me out you could give him the cross as a present, from the two of us.”
Kela clutched the cross. “You know what it means to me. I can’t give away my father’s cross.”
“Andre’s friends are rich and can afford lavish gifts. I appreciate this apartment, but I feel like a pauper. After my show, I’ll have lots of money, but right now I really need your help.”
“You know the cross is all I have left.” A fire had destroyed her childhood home. She’d lost her father, the photos of her mother, everything except the clothes on her back and the cross.
Roland jumped up from the sofa. His shoulders hunched, he faced the unfinished canvas. “Please, Kela. I’m begging. It’s shameful.”
Anger flared. Roland was willing to do anything to impress Karr. “I’m not giving Andre my cross.”
Roland clenched his hands. “This is my career, our future.”
“This isn’t the way I envisioned our future. This place, what’s happening upstairs, it feels wrong.” Fear lacing up her spine, Kela stood. “It’s evil.”
Roland turned to face her. “When did you become so judgmental?”
A sense of urgency flooded her brain.
Run. Run.
Kela grabbed her jacket and purse. “Karr’s lifestyle isn’t for me. You have to make a choice.”
“Between you and Andre?”
“Look at yourself. Wearing the clothes
he
likes, the cologne
he
likes and painting him having sex.” Kela hurried to the door. “You’re not in love with me. You’re obsessed with him.”
His pale hand extended, Roland stepped toward her.
She didn’t want him to touch her. The thought of his cold fingers filled her with dread. “I’ve got to go.”
Kela yanked open the door and ran for the stairs.
Behind her, Roland called out. “Kela, come back. Stay the night.”
She rushed down the stairs and into the street. She had to get away. Even the winged gargoyles on the corners of the building gave her the creeps.
Fear guiding her steps, she ran to her SUV and fired the engine. She needed to go home, to safety.
The special ring tone of her cell phone announced Roland’s call. He’d called every evening at bedtime for three days, but she hadn’t been ready to talk until now. Kela had spent the day at the beach thinking and by sunset she’d made her decision. She answered. “Hi.”
“Kela, I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“We need to talk.”
Kela looked at the engagement ring on her left hand. “Yeah, we do.”
“Come into the city. We’ll go dancing. There’s a hot club called the Devil’s Warehouse. You can meet me there. Don’t bother with the line at the front. Just go to the back door and tell the bouncer you’re a friend of Andre’s.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
Roland sighed. “Don’t be such a drag. We’ll have fun.”
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do. Let’s meet here tomorrow night, then we’ll talk.”
“What’s wrong with tonight?” she asked. “You can go clubbing another time.”
“Andre’s already at the club, waiting for me.”
“We can’t disappoint Andre, can we?”
“You know I can’t afford to offend him.”
“Fine, tomorrow night.”
“Great. I’ll save the whole night just for you.”
She wouldn’t need the whole night to say what she had to say. “Sure, see you then.”
“Good night, Kela, baby.”
Roland disconnected. Kela set her phone on the bedside table and removed her engagement ring. She dropped the ring on the table and turned off the light.
Sleep wouldn’t come. She reached out and touched the empty spot where Roland had once slept. Her eyes filled with tears. It was over. Her dreams of home, husband and family were gone.
Kela sat up and turned on the light. Now that she’d made the decision, she wanted a clean break. She needed to get on with her life.
She pulled off her pajamas and threw on her clothes. Shoving the diamond ring into the pocket of her jeans, she grabbed her phone and looked up the club’s address.
An hour later, Kela pulled into the rear parking lot of the Devil’s Warehouse. The old building was in the theater district and had been part of a city renovation project. She parked and started to get out, but decided against a public breakup. What she had to say to Roland was private and personal. Right now the last person she wanted to see was Andre.
Kela watched the back door, but no one came or went. She picked up her phone to call Roland to ask him to come outside. A few minutes was all she needed.
The back door of the club opened and Roland appeared. His arm was around a pretty young woman with long, dark hair, wearing a very short dress. The two were all over each other, kissing and touching.
The scene unfolding hurt, confirming she’d made the right decision.
Roland pulled up the woman’s dress and backed her against the side of a luxury sedan.
Kela gripped the wheel, watching as Roland unzipped his pants. He thrust his hips, taking the woman aggressively. Then he buried his face in the crook of the woman’s neck.
Angry, Kela got out of her vehicle. She was damn well going to make sure he knew she had caught him in the act. “Roland.”
He didn’t respond.
Kela pulled the ring out of her pocket and strode toward him. “Roland!”
He raised his head and fumbled with the front of his pants. The woman went limp, her arms flopping to her sides. Roland turned toward Kela and the light caught his face. His eyes were red and dark liquid ran down his chin. He pulled back his lips, revealing long, white fangs.
“What the hell.”
Roland opened the door of the sedan and dumped the young woman onto the passenger seat.
He straightened and looked at Kela.
Her mouth went dry. Her heart hammered and her stomach clenched.
Oh God. Is that blood on his face?
Her instinct was to run, but her mind refused to accept the red on his chin was blood.
Roland stepped toward her. Kela jumped back, her cross catching the light and flashing red.
Hissing and displaying his fangs, Roland retreated.
Shocked, she watched him as he slid into the driver’s seat and drove away.
The diamond ring slipped from Kela’s fingers. She blinked, took a deep breath then ran to her SUV and locked the doors. She wailed, a cry tearing from deep within her.
What she’d just seen was impossible. Vampires didn’t exist.
* * * * *
Kela awoke the next morning with a start, the scene from last night flooding her mind. The blood. The fangs. Was it just a bad dream?
She’d fallen asleep on the sofa, fully dressed with her laptop resting on her thighs. It wasn’t a dream, but it couldn’t be real. She’d stayed up until the wee hours looking up vampires.
Pale skin, pointed nails and fangs. Roland fit the description, but vampires were fictional creatures invented by storytellers.
There had to be an explanation for the blood on Roland’s mouth and chin.
She carried her laptop to the kitchen table, filled the coffeemaker and turned on the television to distract her from the horrific images in her head. Listening to the weather and the traffic report was normal and soothing.
“Breaking news. A young woman’s body was discovered in Lakeview Park by an early morning jogger.”
Chills ran down Kela’s spine.
Oh God, it can’t be.
“The victim has been identified as Mary Stone, a community college student.”
Kela’s heart lurched. The photo on the screen was the woman she’d seen with Roland.
“The police are asking for the public’s help to find the person responsible. Mary Stone was only twenty-two years of age
.
”
A hotline number flashed on the screen.
Her legs wobbly, Kela grabbed a kitchen chair and sat down. Bile rose in her throat. She lowered her head between her legs and sucked in several deeps breaths. She had to call the cops.
She pushed to her feet and grabbed the receiver off the charging station on the counter. Sucking in a breath, she dialed. The moment the call connected, Kela blurted out, “I know who did it.”
“You know who murdered Mary Stone?”
“Yes, I saw her last night at the Devil’s Warehouse. In the parking lot.”
“I need your name.”
Kela gave it. “Roland Chabeau was with Mary last night. We’re engaged. I went to the club to break it off. I saw them together in the parking lot.”
“Stay on the line. I’m connecting you with a detective.”
Kela grabbed her coffee and gulped down half the cup.
“Miss Lance, this is Detective Anderson. Can you tell me about last night?”
Words tumbled out. She told the detective about seeing Roland with Mary, about watching them have sex. “When he lifted his head, I saw the blood and I saw his fangs.”
“Did you say fangs?”
“He has fangs. Roland Chabeau is a vampire.”
“Your fiancé is a vampire?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but he had blood all over his mouth and chin.”
“You observed your fiancé having sex with the victim. Then you saw his vampire fangs?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Lance, the county has facilities to help you. Sometimes breakups can be difficult. I can give you the number for the county psychiatric helpline. There are qualified people who can help you.”
“Roland killed that girl. You don’t have to believe me, but please, Detective Anderson, check him out.”
“Of course, Miss Lance. May I connect you with the county psychiatric helpline?”
Kela hung up. The detective didn’t believe her. No one would believe her. She grabbed the cross with a trembling hand. “Oh God, help me.”
An odd feeling of calm came over her. If the cops wouldn’t stop Roland, she had to do it.
Kela turned on her laptop and typed—
how to kill a vampire
.
* * * * *
Wooden stake in hand, Kela slipped into the alley. Dim lights glowed above the delivery doors of Patrick’s Tavern on the left and Pyramid Pizza to the right. Her back hugging the wall and her footfalls silent on the cracked asphalt, Kela stepped deeper into the gloomy urban canyon. She wrinkled her nose, the cloying scent of Hot Blood beating out the competing stench of urine. Her quarry was close.
She’d been hunting Roland, but his cell phone was disconnected and he’d never answered his doorbell. She’d staked out Karr’s building every night, all night for three weeks. Tonight, she’d spotted him.
He’d walked out of Karr’s building and had driven away in a fancy foreign car. Kela had followed him to this section of the city close to the community college. He’d parked and disappeared. Fearing he was trolling for a victim, Kela had walked around until she caught sight of him ducking into an alley with the blonde. Finally, she had him cornered.
He stood deep in the shadows, his dark clothing barely discernible against the building. Hissing, Roland lifted his head. His victim, a pale-skinned female with long blonde hair, hung like a rag doll, her neck held in his powerful left hand.
Blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, he turned and focused on Kela. Looking into his fiendish eyes, she trembled.
“I grow weary of you, Kela.”
“You must be stopped.”
He laughed, a soft rumble she’d once found enchanting. “By you? I doubt it.”
To the unsuspecting, Roland was a fit thirty-year old man, with long brown hair, piercing dark eyes and a killer smile that revealed nothing of the malevolence residing in his heart. The man she’d loved was dead and all that was left was a handsome, evil shell.
“Is she dead?”
Roland released the blonde, letting her drop to the asphalt. “Fucked well and drained dry.”
His cold words and his cruel action sent a shiver down Kela’s spine. She hadn’t been drawn into Andre Karr’s lifestyle of kink and fetish, but Roland and Jenna had embraced it.
“You’re responsible for Jenna. She was our friend.”
“Jenna liked it. Bondage was her thing.”
“He killed her. You let him.”
“She got off on pain. Andre satisfied her needs. She begged for more, right to the very end.”
Had he witnessed her death? Participated? “Damn you, Roland.”
“Don’t call me that. Roland is dead. Chabeau lives.”
Kela tightened her grip on the wooden stake. “Fuck you, Roland.”
“Put down that stake, Kela. Join me. We were good together.”
“There’s nothing good about the
thing
you’ve become. I know what you are and you have to be stopped.”
“You know nothing.”
Gripping the wooden stake in her right hand, Kela stepped forward. “Last night, another college student was found dead, drained of blood. You killed her.”
Roland straightened the cuffs of his long-sleeved black shirt. “Which girl? You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Her name was Heather.”
He shrugged a shoulder, a nonchalant action that burned Kela’s blood.
She moved closer. “You don’t know their names, do you? You fuck them, suck them dry and dump them as if they were garbage.”
“You don’t look well, Kela. You used to be so plump and rosy. Sexy.”
Ignoring his comment about the pounds she’d shed, Kela stepped toward him. “You once respected life. Now you kill without remorse.”
He glanced at the stake in her hand. “Both of us have
changed
.”
Kela had quit her accounting job and focused her energy on stopping Roland. “I don’t relish doing what’s necessary. You kill for pleasure.”
Roland’s lips twisted in a cruel smile. “And here you are all alone.”
A trickle of doubt swirled in Kela’s brain. Had she finally cornered Roland or had he drawn her here? Forty feet behind her was the street, but now the clubs were closed and the late-night traffic was dwindling. If she tried to run, he’d take her down in seconds. Kela had no choice but to stand and fight.
She touched the silver cross hanging around her neck, stroking the ruby at its center. The ruby flashed and a sense of purpose, perhaps righteousness, swelled in her chest.
Dangling the cross, Kela edged closer to Roland. One deep strike to the heart and the horror would end.
Roland flinched, his eyes flashing red. “Take that thing off.”
“Never.” She lifted the wooden stake.
Roland hissed, the sound a cruel reminder of the thing he’d become. “You still love me. You can’t destroy me.”
Attacking, Kela lunged forward. Roland leaped to one side, taking a glancing blow to his shoulder. She pulled another sharp stake from the holster on her belt and prepared to strike again.
“Drop the weapons, Kela, and join me.”
“Go to hell.”
His eyes turned a darker red. “I’ve seen hell. It’s exhilarating.”