Sips of Blood Part 21

"She's always been a.s.sertive, Uncle."

"To family, ma chere. Now she is out bothering un etranger."

Keith immediately looked at Liliana.

"A stranger," she explained.

"Yes, exactly. Why, she came over to my house and began chatting as if we were old friends. She forced her way into my and my son's lives."

"Mr. Bridgewater, I don't think that's completely accurate."

"Hush, ma chere. Let us not antagonize a good neighbor and turn this thing into a petty brawl.

"We know that Marie can be difficult, monsieur, and will try to temper her behavior toward your family."

"Thank you, sir. You're the salt of the earth." Keith gently punched Sade's left arm.

Chapter 35.

Marie had gone home and changed clothes. Quickly she had washed her face, not bothering to reapply any make-up. Now, in town, she felt lost. She needed an outlet for her peevish anger, but she also had to practice caution.

She marched the streets looking for a victim. Too close to home, she knew, but her driving had become too chaotic to travel any further.

Women lunched in the old-fashioned ice-cream parlor. Businessmen grabbed hamburgers at the local bar. But everyone seemed to be in groups today. She needed someone alone. Someone preferably who was a stranger.

Children balked at their mothers' reprimands. Pets waited patiently for their masters in the hot sun.

Her gut tightened. Wait patiently. If that old man hadn't been around, I wouldn't have to stalk in broad daylight.

Soon she realized she had stopped seeing the people pa.s.sing by. Instead she squinted into her own thoughts, blindly making her way from one end of town to the other.

Suddenly a German shepherd in a two-or three-year-old Jeep took to barking. She turned to curse the dog and stopped in her tracks when she saw who was causing the animal to bark. Wil stood just beyond the Jeep, trying to get the dog to hush up.

Could she be lucky? She had paid her dues recently. It was owed to her. Ducking her head, Marie walked away from Wil. She had a visit to make.

Just as Marie arrived at the Bridgewater home, Keith pulled up in the car. He got out, leaving the motor on and slamming the door.

"Get the h.e.l.l off my property, hag."

"But I thought we were the best of friends, dear," Marie called from the inside of her car.

Keith went up to the driver's side of her car and smashed his fist into the back window. Web-like splinters stretched across the pane.

Marie opened the door, ramming the metal into the old man's stomach. Keith doubled over and stepped back.

"Keith, how rude you've become."

Keith caught his breath in a gasp.

"d.a.m.n, woman, I just want you gone."

"I've tried to be a good neighbor. Stopped by to see how you were. Invited you and your son to dinner. Even shamed myself in the supermarket by buying that dreadful beer instead of spending my money on a decent bottle of wine. Introduced you to my granddaughter. Shared special moments with you. Such as when I had your son at my feet and pulled back his head by the hair."

"And told him to come back 'without the old fart'."

"You do remember. I never thought you stupid, Keith, just absurd in your belief that you had to be the Father Protector of your son. Especially since you've done such a poor job so far."

"Why the h.e.l.l are you here? To tantalize me?"

"No."

"Well, my son isn't here, and I don't want any b.l.o.w. .j.o.b from you."

Marie struck out, dragging her long fingernails across Keith's cheek.

"s.h.i.t!" As he spoke he sprayed saliva into the air.

Three of her nails were clotted with his flesh, and she turned her palm up so that he could see, then she licked and chewed the skin free of the nails.

Keith's feet stumbled backward, enc.u.mbered by old, heavy work boots.

"Listen, I've never hurt any woman, but you come at me again, and I'm going to defend myself."

She watched the blood slide down his cheek. He raised his hand to his face to feel what she was looking at. The wounds must have burned, because she saw him wince when his fingers came into contact with his cheek. She took a step toward him.

"I'm a lot bigger than you. What, you about an even five feet? I've got a good head over you. I could seriously hurt you, and I don't want to do that. Just go back to your car and get off my property."

She shook her head and extended her right hand. Keith tried to bat the hand away, but it was immovable. Suddenly her nails were ripping across his throat. Again her fingernails were clotted with his flesh.

"Want a taste?" she asked.

"What the h.e.l.l are you?"

"Taste your flesh, old man." She moved in closer.

Keith's body hit the side of his car.

"You're a real nut job."

"Taste," she whispered.

He tried to run by her, but she lunged and grabbed the back of his head, squeezing the lower part of his skull until she brought him to his knees.

"Have a headache, Keith? Pop any arteries?"

Keith's face was red. His breaths came in pants, but he tried to speak. The only sound he could make was a mewling noise. She slammed his face against the side of his car and bit into the back of his skull, cracking bone to reach the brain. Her tongue darted into the folds, lapping out a small portion of the brain. His body shivered in her arms.

"I'll not kill you, Keith. Alive, you can watch me take your son. Your greatest fear." Marie rolled the old man onto his back and peered into his eyes. "I can never tell how disabled a person is. Somehow, though, I still see intelligence in those watery eyes. Speak, Keith, speak." Marie flicked an index finger across his lips. "Speak. Try." She lowered her ear to his lips. Nothing but a gurgling sound. "Can you protest anymore? Can you interfere again?" She raised her head and looked into his wide eyes. "Scared?" She allowed his head to slide from her hands and hit the ground.

Marie drank sparingly of his blood and shared only enough of her own to keep Keith in the limbo between death and vampirism.

Using a portion of his T-shirt, Marie wiped the blood from her lips.

"Now you will not die. Of course, you will not have much of a life, either. You will be a vegetable and be cared for as I care for my pretty delicate flowers."

Chapter 36.

The lake reflected the blueness of the sky. Earlier Cecelia had feared that it would rain, but once she and Louis pulled up to the lake on his Harley, the sun seemed to rush from behind a cloud to welcome them. Leaping off the cycle, she hurried down to the small sandy beach. There were rumors that the water had been polluted by the last major storm. Waste sludge supposedly had been carried in streams that led to the lake. Cecelia didn't care. Immediately she kicked off her sneakers and ran into the water. The water was chilly, but not cold, and if the sun stayed out, she figured the water would warm up quickly. She walked into the water up to her thighs, still a good distance from the ends of her cutoff denim shorts. Resisting the temptation to remove her halter top, Cecelia stooped over to pick up a handful of water, which she released above her head. Knowing that the white material of the halter would become transparent when wet, she scooped up a second handful, tossing it against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

When she turned to get Sade's reaction, she found that he had already headed for the shack.

"Louis!" she dared yell. "Louis, come into the water."

He never turned around. Instead he twisted the k.n.o.b on the door and let the door swing open on its own. She watched him poke his head inside, but he seemed reluctant to move his entire body into the ramshackle hut.

"It's safe," she yelled. "Besides, we're not going to need it. See, the sun is out." She raised her hands to the sun in adoration.

Sade slipped off his black leather jacket and let it fall to the ground. She always marveled at what tight b.u.t.tocks he had in his jeans. Tight certainly for an old man. His black silk shirt was a contrast in texture and fit to the jeans. The sleeves of the shirt were blousy. The cut of the shirt was full but still tapered.

His white hair, cut just short of his shoulders, blew in the swiftness of a summer breeze. A few s.h.a.ggy strands fell onto his forehead as he looked down at the two steps leading into the shack.

"Louis!" she called again, but he climbed the steps and disappeared inside.

Reluctantly Cecelia made her way back to the beach, picking up her sneakers on her way to the shack.

"Louis, you should try out the water." She jogged up the two steps and ran into the shack.

Sade sat with bent knees on the wood floor, his back against the fake wood paneling of the wall.

"Sit down, ma chere. First close the door behind you."

"But we should at least let some sun in, or it'll be real dreary in here."

"Shut the door, Cecelia."

Compelled by the sound of his voice, she followed his instructions. As soon as the door closed, Sade pulled off his aviator sungla.s.ses.

Even in the dimness of the shack, or perhaps because of it, Cecelia could see how white his flesh appeared under the blackness of the shirt. He seemed to glow, and his eyes shined a warm invitation. What the h.e.l.l, she'd be able to reinforce her tan tomorrow.

She flung her sneakers across the tiny room, but when she sat down in front of Sade she felt the sharp pierce of a splinter enter her right b.u.t.tock.

"Owww," she moaned. Lifting her b.u.t.tock off the floor, she tried to locate the splinter.

"A problem, ma chere?"

"I have a splinter in my f.a.n.n.y."

"Viens ici, let me help." He moved forward, tucking his knees under him.

She felt his hands gently touch her flesh. His fingers were long, the nails well-manicured. But his touch was cold. Frigid, she thought, as he kneaded her flesh in search of the splinter.

"It's further up," she said, rising to her knees so that he would have a better view.

His left hand moved to her left b.u.t.tock, and he ma.s.saged the soft baby fat of her a.s.s.

"It's on the right side of my f.a.n.n.y," she said, not pulling away from his touch. "Ow! Right there. You've found it."

"Much too soon, ma chere."

Her rear shivered when he plucked the splinter out. She slipped her hands under his and began rubbing her own a.s.s.

He pulled himself up onto his knees and pressed his body against hers. She could feel the hardness of his c.o.c.k. With a gulp Cecelia cleared her throat.

"Have you seen the rest of the place?" she asked.

"I've seen only a portion of what I want to see," he answered.

Immediately she pulled away and stood.

"Over here we keep our cigs," she said, walking to the far wall. She pulled up a beige tarp and revealed several packs of cigarettes. "Sometimes we have weed when one of us can afford it. We're broke now." She looked back at Sade and found that he hadn't moved. His hands appeared to be turned palms outward exactly where her b.u.t.tocks had been.

"Louis?"

"Oui." He stood and faced her with an obvious bulge disrupting the smoothness of his denim jeans.

Her eyes lingered a bit too long on his groin.

"Would you take pity on me, ma pet.i.te cherie?"

"Uh?" Confronted with the opportunity that she had been fantasizing about, her confidence wilted.

What if she were too inexperienced? What if he didn't like her body? Oh my G.o.d, when was her period due?