Dragonfire Series
Hunter
The Aleister Affair
Chapter: Investigation
Sheriff
Buchanan peered over the edge of the boat. He held his Blue Maglite in
his hand as he looked into the green-colored water of the swamp. One of
his deputies was beside him, holding a large rechargeable spotlight. He
shined it ahead of them, as another deputy maneuvered through the
cypress knees using the trolling motor.
"Whoa,"
Buchanan said. He thought he saw something. "Come right again." The
deputy turned the boat sideways, the small motor churning the dark
water quickly. "Right there," Sheriff said. "Hold it right there."
The
boat coasted over the exact spot the sheriff had wanted. "Dammit, son,"
he swore, "When I say stop I mean stop."
"Sorry,
Sheriff," the driving deputy said. "You don't exactly stop this thing
on a dime."
Sheriff
Buchanan rolled his eyes. Then he felt a 'thump' under his feet. He
looked at the other deputy beside him. "Probably just a root," the
deputy said. "Ain't real deep here."
Buchanan
nodded. Then he heard something scraping on the bottom of the boat. As
the aluminum boat moved slowly forward, it tipped slightly, not quite
enough to throw anyone off-balance. The boat settled again, and then
stopped moving entirely. Buchanan took a deep breath. "Back us up real
slow," he told the motor operator.
The
deputy reversed the electric motor and the boat began to move to the
rear. Buchanan and the other deputy trained their lights forward on the
water. As soon as the boat had moved three or four feet, they saw it.
It was there, floating just underneath the green-colored water. It was
a body. The body of a young female.
They
worked quickly, donning rubber gloves to pick the lifeless corpse out
of the water. The body had already started decomposing, an attribute of
the enzymes and animals that lived within the dark water of the swamp.
They grimaced as they stuffed the lifeless husk into a plastic body
bag. When they had finished, Buchanan ordered them back to the landing.
They
pulled the boat along the shore. There was a place that had been
cleared of the weeds and grass that grew along the swamp's edge. Here,
local fisherman had made a boat landing. Once they had come to a stop,
Buchanan got out. He walked up to Bobby Joe Greene. He looked Bobby Joe
in the eye. He just shook his head. Bobby Joe started for the boat.
Buchanan stopped him. "You don't want to, Bobby Joe," Buchanan said
with his hand on the old man's shoulder. "Its bad."
"I
gotta look," Bobby Joe said. He went to the boat, where a deputy, on
Buchanan's nod, unzipped the body bag. Bobby Joe looked for an instant,
seeing the body of his daughter, then turned his head away and began to
sob.
A
man wearing the leather trench coat saw it too. His trained eyes looked
past the recent decomposition. He saw the holes in the young girl's
neck. Puncture wounds, precisely over her jugular vein. The distance
between the two marks was equal. The man had no doubt as to what had
made them. Seeing all that he needed, the man turned to leave.
"Hey,"
Sheriff Buchanan called. "Hold on just a damn minute!" Buchanan almost
ran to catch up with the stranger. The sheriff recognized him. His
county had had two prior deaths of young women in the past week. He had
seen this strange, tall man at all of the crime scenes. He now noticed
that the man had not stopped. "Hey, god dammit, I said stop!"
The
man in the black body suit and long coat stopped. He turned around.
Sheriff Buchanan approached him. The man looked at the sheriff with
cold eyes.
"Just
what in the hell are you doing here? You got some kinda weird fetish
for death?" Buchanan wanted some answers. He doubted this was the
murderer, as they usually didn't show up at crime scenes. That was an
arsonist. Still, stranger things have happened.
"I'm
doing the same as you, Sheriff," the man said evenly. "Collecting
evidence."
Buchanan
looked at the man as if he was crazy. "Do what?"
The
man nodded. "You've got a problem, Sheriff. I am here to solve it."
"What
the hell are you, a fed or something? You got some ID?"
The
man shook his head. "No, not really," he answered. "But I may be able
to answer some questions for you about who did this."
Buchanan
looked sideways at the man in black. "Really?" he said dubiously. "Ok,
who did it?"
"A
vampire," the man replied casually.
Buchanan
tried not to laugh. "Alrighty then," he said. "I aint got time for all
of this bullshit. You show me some ID or you're going to jail."
The
man looked Buchanan in the eyes. "I'm serious," he said. "How else are
you going to explain the marks on the two, now three, dead bodies? Did
your crime lab tell you that there was saliva in the wounds? Did they
tell you that the saliva contained DNA that had never before been
encountered?"
Buchanan
looked carefully at the man. He had read the crime lab reports. He had
not shared that information with anyone else. People in this small,
back-swamp county were superstitious enough.
"How
the hell do you know about that?" Buchanan asked.
"I
know all sorts of things, Sheriff," the man replied. "You want to hear
what else I know?" The man half-turned to walk away. Sheriff Buchanan
shrugged and began to walk with him towards a Red Satan Sky.
"You
got a name, Mister?" the Sheriff asked.
"D'Artagnan,"
the man said, extending his hand.
"So,"
Sheriff Buchanan asked as they drove down the old dirt road in
D'Artagnan's car, "are you some kinda X Files agent or somethin'?"
D'Artagnan
cracked a smile. "Actually," he replied, thinking about it, "I am kind
of. I work for an organization that is composed of members of many
different world governments. I get paid to track down vampires."
Buchanan
shook his head. All of this was really too much to believe. After
talking with D'Artagnan a few minutes at the crime scene, though,
Buchanan was ready to listen to the man. Any lead was better than no
lead. D'Artagnan had asked some fairly specific questions, and Buchanan
had given him exact answers. They were driving to an old house on the
outskirts of the swamp roads now.
The
old house had been built by one of the first settlers to this area. The
farmers here had raised sugar cane. The house stood in the middle of an
old cane field that was now mostly weeds. No lights were on inside the
house. The paint was peeling, and the old picket fence that stood
around the yard was falling down. D'Artagnan stopped the Sky and got
out. He paid no attention as to whether Buchanan had stepped out or not.
Buchanan
did get out, and he hurried to catch up with him. They both stepped
onto the old porch, whose boards creaked under the combined weight.
Buchanan winced as the boards strained. D'Artagnan, however, walked
calmly to the front door and placed his hand on the knob.
"Hey,"
Buchanan said, "You ain't got no search warrant."
D'Artagnan
looked at the Sheriff out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't you tell me
that this house was abandoned?"
Buchanan
nodded.
D'Artagnan
tried the knob. It didn't turn. He took a step back from the door, and
then plunged a side-thrust kick into it. The door flew into the
interior of the house, knocked completely off its hinges. D'Artagnan
walked inside.
The
old house smelled of mildew and rat shit. D'Artagnan surveyed the main
room. It was pitch dark inside the house. Buchanan illuminated the room
with his Maglite.
"Switch
that off," D'Artagnan told him.
"Why?
Are you crazy?"
D'Artagnan
took the light from Buchanan's hand. "Because I can't see," D'Artagnan
told him. D'Artagnan had trained his eyes to see in the dark. To do
this required a conditioning of the eye to take in all available dim
light. The small amount of outside starlight was all D'Artagnan needed
to visualize the room. The sudden intrusion of Buchanan's flashlight
had blinded him.
D'Artagnan
walked ahead. Buchanan heard what sounded like more boards creaking. He
then realized that D'Artagnan was heading up the stairs. This was
creepy. Fuck that. D'Artagnan could go by himself.
D'Artagnan
went up the stairs and searched through two rooms before he found what
he was looking for. He knew the vampires would not be here. This town
was too small for them to go unnoticed for long. However, he had hoped
that he would at least find some evidence of their having been. It was
in the third room that D'Artagnan found it.
D'Artagnan
held a small penlight between his teeth. The light shined a faint red
beam. He then held up a small piece of paper in front of the light. The
paper was scrawled with a Glyph. No, it wasn't a glyph, D'Artagnan knew
as he recognized it. It was a Japanese character. It was the symbol for
akuma. Devil. And the name of Aleister under it.
"They
are gone," D'Artagnan told Buchanan as he came back onto the porch. The
early morning fog was forming. D'Artagnan could just see the path that
led to the old house.
"You
sure?"
"Yeah,"
D'Artagnan answered. "You won't have any more killings like this,
Sheriff."
D'Artagnan
walked towards the car. Buchanan stood there for a moment, bewildered,
then followed the man in black.
She
lay on the bed nude. She was young and beautiful, just the way he liked
them. Definitely not Japanese, though. But that was okay, too. Her eyes
were closed. He looked at the swell of her small breasts, and how the
cool room air caused her nipples to harden. Her aureoles were pink and
pretty. Her pussy, lewdly displayed for him, was swollen and
glistening. There was a light covering of fine red hairs on it. The
pubic hair matched the hair on her head.
He
climbed onto the bed, scooting himself between her legs. He adjusted
her legs so he parted them with his own. He kissed her softly, running
the tip of his tongue along her pink mouth. She moaned softly, darting
her tongue out to caress his.
He
reached between their bodies and positioned his cock at her entrance.
Her eyes snapped open when she felt him push it in. She pushed back
against him, feeling him slide his length all the way inside her. A
gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as he buried himself in the warm, wet
confines of her sex.
He
began to move slowly at first. In and out, gripping her hair loosely in
his hands as he fucked her softly. She moved her hips with his,
grinding slowly against him. He looked at her; saw that her eyes were
slits, her mouth forming a little 'O'.
He
tucked his hand under the small of her back, pressing her body close to
him, allowing her pubic mound to contact his. He could feel her fucking
him, her movements causing him to increase his pace. His hand tightened
in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck.
He
fucked her harder now, her moans changing into grunts as he thrust hard
into her. He licked across her throat, down the exposed side of her
neck, sucking forcefully on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Her
fingers were digging into his ass as she pulled him into her. He felt
her pussy begin to contract on him. It started at the tip of his penis
and worked its way down until his entire cock was clenched tightly. He
felt her cunt spasm in orgasm. He no longer needed to hold her head
back, as it was thrown back in a silent scream of pleasure.
That
was when he bit her.
His
fangs sank into her jugular vein. The warm, salty, metallic taste of
her blood filled his mouth. He sucked hungrily, greedily. She screamed
in pain, in terror, in fear as she felt her life drain away.
He
drank until there was no more. And finally, her heart stopped beating.
He withdrew from her. Wiping his mouth, he dressed in a robe, and
opened the bedroom door. "Bring another," he said into the hallway.
"Looks
like I am headed to Japan," D'Artagnan said into his cell phone. The
voice on the other end replied in a high East Coast accent.
"Shall
I contact a friend?"
D'Artagnan
considered it for a moment. "Yes, it may help."
"It
will be done. Good hunting to you my friend."
And
the call was ended.
