Day Three - Pets. part 1

Bentley sipped the Costa coffee he had got at the petrol station on his way to work. “Right Christine” he said to his DC, “What is new this wonderful day and who is dead that wasn’t yesterday?”

“Morning sir. No one dead, as far as I know, nothing coming in for our attention anyway. No more people reporting strange memory lapses and discovering that they have partaken of orgies that they do not recall.”


“Due in about half an hour sir, it’ll come through from the labs to you via email. Blood however is in.”

“Well woman, come on, spit it out.”

“There is the same unknown protein present in both Vanessa Hilt and Leanne Adams blood sir. The lab has never seen it before and cannot as yet identify it beyond being a protein. Oh early results on the semen, it is not semen as such, just seminal fluid, the attacker is firing blanks, fluid but no swimmers, not a single one.”

“Right, so we can safely assume the women are not lying, and that they were both given some drug of sorts. So, do we have a bright young chemist on our hands, his hormones raging but his balls broken so he has created the ultimate date rape drug I wonder?”

“Sir, I think we ought to let the women know that there was a drug evident in their systems, and that there is no chance of pregnancy from the rape. That will at least perhaps help Adams and her husband.”

“Tell Adams but not Hilt. I am still unsure of Hilt to be honest. There is no additional evidence anywhere to back up her story, at least the physicals in the cottage do completely tie in with what Adams said. We will question Hilt further, perhaps later today.”

Bentley sat back in his chair and pondered. So. A new drug that shows up as a protein, causes memory loss for sure and what else? Lack of control? Lack of inhibition? Were the women willing partners in the intercourse, enthusiastic even, ‘slight vaginal tearing, more akin to enthusiasm than force’ the Doc had said. His own knowledge of the usual date rape drugs were that they left the woman in a very drowsy state, not exactly willing and participant, and certainly not enthusiastic. This didn’t seem to be the same thing at all. This was something new.

He checked his email, the DNA results were in. He scanned through the report. Both samples were from the same single source. So, that ruled out multiple donors, just one ‘plentiful’ donor. There is no known matching sample in the system. It is a very rare DNA, originating Locale Eastern Europe, Transylvania region, no known current donor of a matching locale grouping since records began. Believed to have died out 6th Century BC.

“Fuck off, no fucking way” he said.

“Sir?” Christine asked?

“Nothing. I am going to see Hart, then we are going to see Hilt.”

Vanessa’s dreams in the night had been graphic and unusually persistent, she remembered them still. She relived her own rape as if she were the assailant, feeling the rush as he raped and fed at her neck, and then there was another, a young mother, again as if she were in the body of the male assailant, and then the taste of milk on her lips as the assailant drank her dry of mother’s milk. She experienced the rape and feeding from a woman in a farm, the draining and discarding of a boy in the lane and then the darkness of an eternity, and then she was racing after a girl before catching her in a hayrick, raping and drinking and then being chased by men with pitchforks. Her whole night seemed to be reliving rape after rape after rape, but from a man’s perspective, she felt his powerful orgasms, the rush as he drank from the blood of his victims and she remembered back through aeons as if she had lived them, their tastes, sounds and smells.

She had endured a wild night and had woken up bloody. Despite her precautions with tampons and sanitary towels the sheets were a mess, and, unusually, she found the mess repugnant and disgusting. She threw the bloodied bedding in to her washing machine, set it, and then stood in her shower, just letting the hot water cascade over her. “I knew he was lying, I though Vampyres are supposed to like blood, not be repulsed” she said to the shower wall, “I am such a gullible bitch sometimes.” She rinsed and douched and only when she was sure she was clean outside and in did she get out of the shower stall. She sat in the toilet and inserted a tampon in case of more discharge, and put her gown on.

She went down to make coffee and breakfast and stood for a moment staring at the kettle. “Why am I hungry but cannot face the thought of cereal or even eggs? I haven’t eaten in, what, over 12 hours, yet cannot face the thought of food, I know I am hungry, I feel an urge to feed.” The kettle stood silent, and she turned away, out of the kitchen. “It must be the drugs that Helen gave me to ensure I didn’t get pregnant from the bastard. They must have had an affect on my taste buds or something.” She went back upstairs and dressed, and then sat on the edge of her bed staring out of her bedroom window at nothing, trying to make sense of what had happened.

She did not feel strange at the reliving of her rape, or even at the perceived rape of the other women, and men too back in history, she felt the orgasms, each and every one and knew they were nothing like she ever felt as a woman. She remembered the sheer joy of the taste as he had fed, that joy manifesting it self as real and true as the orgasms through the night. Could there be truth in what he had said, had he passed some of his blood to her, was she reliving his memories, was she transforming? So many questions, she felt as if her head would explode, she could not take it all in. She was snapped back to reality by a loud knocking at her door.

She opened the door to the police man and woman from yesterday. Bentley and Jackson.

“Good morning Miss Hilt” Bentley said, “may we come in, there are some further developments?” She found it odd and it reminded her, Eldred had asked her to ask him in, was that something, could she keep Him out by refusing him permission to enter? Did she actually want to stop him entering her house? She stood back and waved an arm, inviting them into her house. As Bentley walked past she noticed a small cut on his neck, probably from shaving, there was a small drop of blood, she gasped and had an almost overwhelming need to lick the cut, to suck it clean of any blood.

“Are you alright Vanessa?” asked Christine, you look as if you are about to collapse on us, do you want me to call a Doctor?”

Vanessa pulled herself together, the shock of the bloodlust now added to the night of dreams was finally beginning to make the Vampyre’s words sound like a credible story. The question now hung over her like the blade of a guillotine. Did she want to be immortal and live forever?

“No, I am fine, just a moment’s dizziness, I have been a mess all night as you can imagine. Please, go through and sit down.”