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fellowshippers2003-07-25 12:23 am
darkelfgrl.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-07-25 12:23 am
Blood Lust 7/?
Title: Blood Lust 7/?
Pairings: VM/OB, DM/EW/BB, KU/SB, and OB/DM. Pairings hinted at: OB/DM/KU
Rating: R
Summary: Viggo is called in to a homicide for his expertise.
Warnings: Sexy dream, vampirism, blood and gore, and language
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The people in the story are real people, but are not the preternatural creatures I make them. None of these people are mine.
Author’s note: This is an AU fanfiction. Story is told from Viggo’s point of view. This story is taking place in the world of the Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton. Some references will be made to the series.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Archive: If you want to archive this or the previous chapters on your site, just tell me where it’s going. That’s all.
I’m standing in a room that I do not recognize. The light is dim, due to a light fixture overhead that is adjustable. Wait…that seems very familiar. Some more light is coming from candles that hang from fixtures on the wall. It hits me. I’m in the room that Dom described yesterday. The room that he had been in when he found out who Orlando was. Yep, and there is the king sized bed…the king sized bed that has a VERY naked Orlando sprawled out on it. He seems even paler against the black sheets. His brown eyes met mine. He smirks spreading his legs, looking very wanton. My body seemed to shake with desire at the sight of him spread before me. I blink. I don’t remember moving until I’m standing at the bed. Shit. That’s just a little scary. Orlando’s eyes are filled with amusement, at the sight of my confusion. He rolls off of his back and crawls towards me. I stare fascinated, as he crawls towards me in that feline grace he has. Soon he is kneeling at the edge of the bed, an arms length away. He reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me into a searing kiss. Orlando tilts his head as I start to gain dominance in the kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues meet in a duel in his mouth, as the kiss seemed to get hungrier. I pull back as I felt my tongue run over his fangs, cutting it slightly. Orlando’s eyes hold a hungry look in them. What does he hunger for more? The blood or the sex? I watch as he brings his right wrist to his mouth. He pulls his lips back, baring a quick glimpse of his fangs before they bite into his wrist. There was no flicker of pain across his face or eyes, as he bites down. He pulls his lips away, and looks at his now bleeding wrist. For a moment he seems fascinated at the sight of his own blood. He flicks his tongue over the wound. I watch his throat swallow the small amount of blood he had lapped up. Orlando looks at me, his brown eyes dark. He holds his wrist out to me and speaks in that purr.
“Come Viggo.” I stare at the blood running from the wound and over his hand. My eyes follow as a drop falls to the white carpet, staining it. His voice brings my eyes back to him. “You know you want to try it. You are curious.” I keep my eyes on him as I take his wrist to my mouth. His eyes darken until they are pools of black. The bloodlust has him. He growls, pulling his wrist from me before I even have the chance to taste him. Orlando grabs a hold of me and pulls me onto him, falling back on the bed. Immediately our lips meet, wanting to devour the other. My hands grip at his waist, as his arms snake down my back and then grab my ass. I moan into his mouth, grinding down on him. He pulls back from the kiss, to throw his head back and moan. His eyes meet mine and for a moment I feel fear looking into those pools of black, but the fear is pushed aside as he grinds up to meet me. His hands are now beginning to pull at the bottom of my shirt. Oh…I’m still dressed. He manages to pull my shirt off. I moan as he bites at my neck and collarbone. A low growl trickles from his lips. I stiffen in fear, knowing what is going to happen. His fangs are bared, as he grabs a handful of my hair. Then…
The phone rings. My eyes shoot open. I blink in surprise. It was a dream, but it seemed so real. I could almost still feel Orlando’s lips on mine. My cock hardened at the thought. Shit. I had an erection. The phone rang again. I glance at the clock by my bed. WHO IN THEIR FUCKING RIGHT MIND WOULD CALL AT FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING? I’m going to kill whoever is on the other fucking line. It rings again. I shoot an angry glare at the wall between mine and Sean’s room. I thought wereanimals had very sensitive hearing. But I guess they can chose to ignore certain things. The phone rings again. It’s starting to sound as if it is getting louder with each ring. Finally I yank the phone off its cradle, at the same time tempted to throw it across the room.
“You better have a fucking good reason for calling this early.” I growl into the phone. There is silence. Good, maybe I scared them and I can go back to bed.
“Is Viggo Mortensen there?” Damn, no such luck.
“This is he.” The growl is gone from my voice, but I still sound pissed. Good.
“This is Sergeant John-Rhys-Davies I am in charge of RPIT.” I blink in surprise. RPIT stands for the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team and is pronounced “rip it”. They handle all supernatural-related homicides and crimes. It deals with vampires, wereanimals, ghosts, zombies, etc. RPIT is known as the spook squad of the police of Seattle. The don’t just do cases in Seattle; they work on cases all around the state. There have even been some supernatural cases outside of Washington that have called them in for help. There is talk that they are trying to expand RPIT and try to have a squad for every city in the country. But that would be a lot of money and time on teaching the police about preternatural creatures or beings. I had looked up some information on RPIT, when I had been reading the paper and they were mentioned in a break-in that involved a zombie. I blink again, as Davies continues. “I’m sorry for calling you so early in the morning, but I am calling because there has been a homicide.”
“And that affects me how?” Damn, I can be mean. There is a chuckle on the other end.
“Since you are The Executioner and now a Federal Marshall, I figured it’d be best to call you and get your expertise on this.”
“What if I don’t know what did it?” Davies chuckles.
“I would be very surprised seeing how you studied preternatural sciences and other preternatural related classes in college.” Whoa…
“How…” Again he chuckles.
“I’m looking at my laptop and have your background and education. I had to pull it up, because I had to convince people that you were the right person to get expertise from.”
“You guys have done plenty of supernatural cases before. Why do you need me?”
“Because there is something a little off about this one. Something that doesn’t quite seem like what it is supposed to look like.” He’s being honest. I don’t know what to say. Personally I want to crawl back into bed and sleep, but he sounds he like he really wants my help. I sigh.
“Fine. Give me directions and I should be there in an hour or so.”
“An hour?”
“I need to shower, put clothes on, and get there. Plus I’ve only been here a little over a week and don’t know my way around quite yet.” Davies then gives me directions to the place. The crime scene is in the woods behind Custard Cemetery, over on the other side of highway I-5. Okay this will take me about an hour. After I assure Davies that I can get there, we hang up. I flop my head back onto my pillow and groan loudly. Laughter comes from my doorway. Sean is leaning in the doorway, laughing at me. I glare at him. “Let me guess…you decided to ignore the phone?” Laughter is still in his eyes, as he shrugs.
“I figured the phone was for you anyway, with the history you’ve had over the past three days.” I glare and throw one of my pillows at him. He catches it with reflexes like….well, a cat. Sean laughs more. I throw another pillow. He’s too busy laughing and doesn’t react in time, as it hits his face. I sneer at him triumphantly. Bastard. He chuckles and chucks them at me, one after the other. It’s early and I’m tired so my reflexes aren’t sharp, as they hit me in the face. Sean grins, his gray eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m going to bed. See you in…” He glances at my clock. “…a few hours.” With that, he turns to leave the room.
“FUCKER!” I yell at him. His laughter is heard, as he closes his door. I groan, as I drag myself out of bed and grab some clean clothes.
Okay, there’s Monarch St. I make a right turn as John had said in his directions. In front of me looms the large iron gate surrounding the cemetery. It towers at around fifteen feet into the air. At the top of the gate are large points. There is no possible way of scaling the fence, unless of course you are some preternatural creature. I don’t go through the gate, like most people would, but go around the cemetery to the woods in back. I come to the woods as John instructed. All along the road are vehicles that are there for the crime scene. There are police cars, unmarked police cars, an ambulance, and a large black van that has FORENSICS written across its side. It was a shock during my first homicide case to actually see how many people go to a scene. I park my car amongst all of them. Before getting out of the car I reach into the glove compartment and grab my Executioner badge. It isn’t really a badge, but is a laminated picture ID on a clip. Nothing spectacular, but will get me on a crime scene. Plus the fact that all Executioners are now Federal Marshals. Once outside of my car, I realize that I stand out like a sore thumb. All of the others are dressed in their uniforms or in the case of the detectives on Homicide or with RPIT; are wearing dress pants, shirt, and a tie. I threw on a pair of worn looking blue jeans. The bottom of each pant leg is starting to fray and there is a hole over my right knee. Besides the jeans I opted for a black sweatshirt with a hood and large pocket in front. Personally if I’m going to be working around a dead body, I REALLY don’t want to get clothes that I love covered in blood and other stuff. I clip my badge to my sweatshirt and begin making my way towards the police line, hoping to find John-Rhys-Davies. As I approach the police line, a man approaches me. He doesn’t look very happy. He is around my height, give or take a couple inches. His brown hair is cut short and slicked back with gel. Brown eyes harden at the sight of me before speaking.
“This is an crime scene investigation, no civilians.” Okay, I can let that slide…I mean I look like a civilian.
“I was…” He cuts in.
“No civilians.” I blink and try to keep my face blank. His badge on his uniform attracts my attention. It reads: Capt. H. Sinclair. I look into his eyes, keeping my face and eyes blank.
“You see Mr. Sinclair…” He stiffens and obviously doesn’t like being addressed this way. “…I received a phone call about an hour ago from a Sergeant John-Rhys-Davies, wanting me to bring my expertise to this case.” Sinclair finally notices my laminated badge and narrows his eyes at me.
“I don’t need any Feds on my case.” I sigh. I’ve just pissed in his pond. Most cops don’t like the Feds coming into their territories and working on their cases. Funny, they seem more territorial than some wereanimals I have recently met. At the moment I’m very tired, after have been woken up about an hour ago. I think it’s time to piss some people off. I sneer at him.
“Well technically, this isn’t your case. This is RPIT’s.” His hands clench at his sides with the effort not to do something stupid to me. If he so much as lays a hand on me, he could be taken off the force for striking a Federal Marshal. A deep voice takes our attention from each other.
“Sinclair!” Sinclair glares at me before turning to the man approaching. The man is taller than me and is big. Not big as in fat, but bulk. His brown hair is balding. On his face is a goatee and mustache. Brown eyes seem to twinkle at me with kindness. “You must be Viggo Mortensen.” He holds his hand out to shake mine. I realize I’ve heard that voice.
“And you must be Sergeant John-Rhys-Davies.” I take his hand and we shake. Sinclair is outraged.
“Who gave you the right to authorize him on the case?” Davies’s eyes don’t seem to have that sparkle in them anymore, as he looks at Sinclair.
“For one: Viggo is a Federal Marshal and could walk onto this investigation without as much as giving a warning. Two: I spoke to Hugo. He was the one who was originally called to the scene and called me.” Sinclair glares at me harder and stalks off. Davies chuckles to himself. “About a year ago Harry became the captain of the police. He doesn’t like people fucking with his business.” I nod as Davies starts to direct me towards the woods and obviously, the body. As we walk across the grass, I begin to notice how very few people are actually near the body. There are a cluster of plainclothes, which are most likely detectives, standing around drinking from their coffee tumblers. The local cops are walking around, keeping themselves busy. Near the forest is a young cop doubled over vomiting into the bushes. His buddy is rubbing his back, consoling him. The young cop continues vomiting his stomach contents until there is nothing and he is left dry heaving. I’m not liking this.
“Why is no one near the body?” Davies glances at me out the corner of his eyes.
“Everyone is done with looking at the body. Forensics have come through and collected what they needed. There’s still some evidence they need to pick up, but they are waiting for you to go through the scene. The crime scene photographer took his pictures…everyone’s ready to go once you’re done.” He avoiding the answer I’m looking for.
“How bad is it?” Davies stops before we head into the woods. I can see it in his eyes; he’s considering not telling me.
“Pretty damn bad.” With that he starts down a path in the woods. It’s a miracle that he can find the path. Since it is late October, the leaves are falling from the trees and are beginning to coat the forest floor. He leads off from what seems to be the main path and down a smaller one. This one leads deeper into the woods, further away from people talking and the crackling of radios. The only noise is the birds that are starting to rise and the sound of the leaves crunching under our feet. I look at him.
“Who found the body?”
“Some guy by the name of James Peterson. He was jogging with his dog on the main path. The dog went off the path and found the body. He called the police and homicide was sent out. Hugo Weaving…he’s in charge of homicide, took one look at the body and realized it wasn’t done by anything human and called me.” I would REALLY hate to be the guy that found the body. We come to a clearing and stop. The man that was in the clearing looks up at our entrance. He is around my height with blonde hair that has that just-out-of-bed look. Either he literally rolled out of bed and changed or he towel dried his hair after a shower and just let it stay that way. His blue/gray eyes shine with a mischievous light. He’s wearing blue dress pants and a white striped dress shirt. The top couple of buttons are undone and the tie that he is wearing had been pulled looser from around his neck, until it hung almost halfway down his chest. He seems to have been writing notes when we interrupted him. Davies steps between the two of us. “Viggo, this is Dave Wenham. Dave, this is Viggo Mortensen our local Executioner.” Dave smiles broadly as he shakes my hand.
“Ready to look at the body?” He seems very pleased with himself and I’m starting to wonder if he’s looking forward to me throwing up. I follow him and Davies further into the clearing. Scattered around the clearing are little flags/markers. Each of the markers are color coded. Forensics must have gone through and put up the markers by bits of evidence that might help me, but will have to pick up once I’m done. I never understood why Forensics chose to do that or how they keep track of what color marker goes with what kind of evidence. They lead to a body bag. All three of us stop before the bag. For a moment none of us make a move to open the bag. I finally step forward, but turn to Davies.
“Do you have any gloves?” In response he reaches into a pocket and pulls out two latex gloves. I take them from him, kneel down, and put them on.
“Try not to ruin the body or evidence.” Dave says from behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Davies elbowing him in the chest. Basically Dave is telling me not to lose my stomach contents on the body. I take a deep breath as I slowly unzip the bag. Immediately I pull away, coughing and trying to force down the vomit that I can feel rising in my throat. I swallow a couple of times to get rid of the feeling.
“Are you okay Viggo?” Davies says behind me, genuinely sounding concerned. I nod, not wanting to answer. Taking a large breath of air, I look back down at the body. The body was once a very pretty young woman, mid-twenties. She had black hair, which now fans around her face. Her hazel eyes are glassy and unseeing as she stares towards her right. I look down the length of her body. Her stomach had been torn open, exposing her vital organs; intestines spilling out. Her organs seem to be intact. One of her arms is at a horrible angle, the bone jutting out. On one point of the arm, it literally looks like something started to gnaw on her. The other arm…on the other side of the clearing. But the one thing that is confusing, her chest. Ribs stick straight out of her chest, blood staining them; catching the early morning light. It looks like someone or something reached into her chest and just ripped it open. A couple of the ribs are broken; evidence that whatever did this had the strength. I rest back on my heels, trying to stare anywhere, but at the body. “We think it’s a wereanimal.” I want to yell at them for dragging me here. This is the worst homicide I’ve seen. The others were obvious what did it. A couple of neat puncture wounds in the neck; vampire. Dead body with an arm ripped off, stomach gored; wereanimal. Yes, they called me here to look at the body and confirm what they thought, but I didn’t like this. Davies goes on. “I mean last night was the night before the full moon. We figure that she was out with her boyfriend or lover and they got in a heated argument. He lost control and attacked her. Some of my men are calling her family to tell them what happened and to see if she had a boyfriend. That way we could question him.” He goes on, but I’m not listening. I look down at the right side of her neck. Blood is covering it. I swallow hard, as I take a hold of her head and turn it to the side. There is some resistance. The right side of her neck is stained with blood. I look closely and notice that it looks like something bit her and took a chunk out. Looking a tad bit further up from that, are two puncture marks. I pause. Then it comes to me. I reach into her open chest and feel around. Behind me Davies is speaking and Dave is writing the notes down.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dave yells. I look up. Both of them looking at me like I’m the craziest person they’ve seem.
“This wasn’t done by a wereanimal.” Both of them look at me confused. “This is too neat to be a wereanimal kill.” Dave looks at me like I’m crazy.
“You call this neat?” He points at the body as he raises his voice. “Oh yeah, that is soo fucking neat.” I glare at him.
“If a wereanimal did this, there would have been more of a struggle. Plus, if a wereanimal did this, there’d be pieces of the body scattered around this clearing.” Both Dave and Davies look like they’re going to be sick just at the thought. “Or, there would be barely a body left…the wereanimal would eat the body the night before the full moon. When a wereanimal is forced to shift, they become animals and need to feed; to calm the beast, to have more control over it. That’s why most wereanimals try to change in the woods. There’s tons of prey without them coming across humans. One of the main reasons is this…her heart is gone…taken. A wereanimal wouldn’t have paused to look just for the heart; it would have gone through anything in the way. The heart is the storage of our blood…it wouldn’t have cared for the blood, it would have wanted the meat.” There’s an awkward silence, as I stand.
“You said something about them being forced to change. Can they change or shift on their own?” Davies asks.
“Yes. It’s usually the more dominant or the stronger ones that can shift at their own will and without it being the full moon. But once it’s the week of the full moon, they lose some or all control of the change…like all the other wereanimals.”
“So, if it’s not a wereanimal…what is it?” Dave asks.
“A vampire.”
“WHAT!?” Both of them say at the same time. The looks on their faces tell me they don’t believe me. I reach down and point at the neck of the body and point while I talk.
“Here it looks like something bit her and took a chunk out, but here you can clearly see two puncture marks. Notice that around the edges of the puncture marks the skin is rough and ragged….torn. Vampire puncture marks are neat.”
“So that means it’s not a vampire?” Dave looks at me. “I’m confused.”
“It is a vampire…a revenant vampire.” They both give me blank looks. I guess it is a good thing that I am the Executioner and I know stuff about vampires. “Revenant vampires are the newly risen vampires. They are more animal, than regular vampires. They can’t control the bloodlust and become an animal when feeding. Usually the vampire that created them or brought them over, their sire, helps them control the hunger.”
“Then why would this one attack?”
“There are two possible reasons. One: the sire isn’t strong enough to control the revenant, two: the sire is dead…” I pause. No, there’s a third reason. “…or three: another Master vampire is in the territory and is after the Master of the City.”
“What’s a Master vampire?”
“A Master vampire is one that has reached its full power and has the power to rule its own territory. A Master of the City is basically that, it’s the Master of the vampires in that city or territory. What this could be is another Master vampire is in the territory and is doing this to bring the police’s attention and the Master of the City’s attention off of it, so it can move in and kill the Master of the City…then take the territory.”
“Are you sure that it’s not any of the other two?” Davies asks me. He and Dave are listening to me attentively. I open my mouth to answer him, but stop. Two people have entered the clearing. One is Sinclair, the other… I have no idea.
“Have we wrapped this up and figured out what did it?” His voice is deep and sounds sexual. Great Viggo, you’re thinking of sex at a murder scene. Must be the aftermath of that dream. Davies shakes his head.
“No we haven’t wrapped up, but Viggo has been telling us what he believes did it. I have to say I agree with him.” The man turns to me, turning soft brown eyes to me.
“So, you’re the Executioner? I’m Hugo Weaving.” We shake hands. He a little bit taller than me and more slender. His black hair receding. He smiles, an eyebrow arching up. “So what is your theory?” I tell him everything that I told Dave and Davies. After I tell him everything, he looks at me impressed. He smiles. “John believed you’d be the best to help us on this case and I have to very much agree. I mean without you knowing things about vampires, all of us would have assumed wereanimal.” His eyebrows furrow. “How can you be certain that the other two reasons aren’t possible?”
“I’m not. The best thing to do now is actually talk to the Master of the City.” Hugo nods.
“Good idea. John and I can work on getting a hold of the Master of the City.” They turn to leave.
“No.” They look back at me. “Orlan...h-he won’t talk to you.” Great, give up Orlando’s name. Dave caught my slip and smirks, eyeing me as if he’s trying to read me. He’s beginning to unnerve me. I’m starting to wonder if he has some psychic abilities. RPIT is known to let in psychics and witches in on the squad for help on the cases. Hugo cocks his head to the side.
“Why do you say that?”
“Vampires don’t care for the police. They don’t pay attention or follow our laws. They have their own set of laws they have to follow. They just don’t associate with the police. You try to get a hold of the Master of the City; he will avoid you at all costs. And if you actually talk to him, he’ll give you half truths. Just put it this way, vampires don’t like the police.” Dave smirked.
“You said he. How do you know the Master of the City is a he?” Fuck. All of their eyes turn to look at me. Why do I feel nervous? I shouldn’t…I mean it’s not a horrible thing that I know the Master of the City. I clear my throat.
“I have met him.” Eyebrows raise, while Dave snorts trying to hold in his laughter. I glare at him, not really finding what’s so funny. Davies looks at me.
“How did you meet him?”
“Actually he came to me. He’s been the Master of this territory for over a hundred years and in that time he has never had an Executioner in it.” I shrugged. “He was just curious.” Harry glares at me and says with an evil smirk,
“And who do you think should talk to the vampire? What are you going to do? Magically call forth some other preternatural creature to talk to him? Oooo…better yet, why don’t you raise one of the dead, so that it can talk to him. I mean he is dead, maybe he’ll understand it better.” I glare at him. I’m pretty sure everyone in this clearing knows that I’m an animator, but that was low. I keep a blank look on my face as I look at him and answer.
“Me.” Harry snorted and Dave smirked, while Davies and Hugo blinked at me. Hugo raised an eyebrow.
“And why you?”
“Because he already knows me and would rather talk to me than you guys.” I sneer in Harry’s direction. I’m really beginning to hate him I also don’t want to mention the fact that he would talk to me, because he wants me and I want him. Another one of the reasons I want to talk to Orlando about the case, I just want to see him. I know that doesn’t sound right from the Executioner, but screw it…I want the Master Vampire of the City. Hugo nods.
“But if he learns that you are talking to him on police business won’t he become upset and decide not to talk to you.” I think it over.
“Not that I know of. I mean if we keep him informed on what is happening in the case, I’m pretty sure he’ll cooperate.” Hugo shakes his head.
“That’s out of the question. We are not allowing the vampire to know what’s going on in the case.” I sigh.
“Fine.” I shrug. “If we withhold information from him and he learns about it, he will decide to no longer cooperate.” Davies and Hugo glance at each other. Harry sneers, his eyes lighting up with an almost maniac gleam.
“But if he withholds information that can be seen as murder, since he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t have a chance in front of the judge and would be executed.” I stiffen, knowing where this is going. “And you will be the one to execute him.” Hugo whirls around.
“That is enough! I don’t know what Viggo did to piss you off, but you need to stop. We are all working on this case together. Try to cooperate at least when you are on the case. If you do this outside of the case, I don’t really care.” Harry glares at him. Davies and Hugo start to talk amongst themselves. I avoid looking at Harry, I might provoke him or I might have to hurt him. Dave is looking at me intently, a smirk playing on his face. I’m really going to have to ask him if he’s some form of psychic. Davies turns to me.
“Okay, you can keep the vampire informed on what is happening in the case.” Harry’s mouth falls open. I smile, a baring of teeth. “Explain to him that he will remain informed about the case and he must tell us everything that he knows and believes will help us. Tell him that if he doesn’t keep us informed or withholds information and we find out, he will be arrested and that can lead to worse.” I nod. Hugo steps forward.
“Well, I guess that wraps this up. I’ll tell forensics they can wrap up.” He holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Viggo. I think you are going to be great help in this case.” He and Harry leave. Davies hands me a card.
“This is to keep in contact if you learn anything of value. Thank you for the help so far and good luck with the vampire.” He nods at me before following in Hugo’s and Harry’s direction. Dave approaches me.
“You might want to keep your emotions in check.” He smirks, then holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you.” I stare at him blankly as he makes his way up the path. Then it hits me. He’s an Empath. Dave can feel other people’s emotions or feelings. He can feel pain, pleasure, and many others. No wonder he was always watching me and smirking. Dave could feel my emotions. I quickly run after him and catch him outside of the woods.
“Dave!” He turns around, an amused look on his face. I pant for a moment, but manage to continue. “You’re an Empath.” Dave cocks his head to the side.
“You are learned well.” He jokes.
“Do they know?” I point towards the others.
“Yes. I mean I tried to hide it for the longest time. They found out back at headquarters when I walked past a broom closet and collapsed to my knees and started to moan. They thought I was going to have a seizure. Turned out a young couple was in the closet going at it and I had collapsed, cuz I could feel everything happening. Sexual pleasure is the strongest feeling and the hardest to block, no matter how long you have known you are an Empath.” In the distance Davies yells for him. “Well, better get back to boss-man.” I shake my head and head to my car.
When I walk through the door, Sean walks out of his room, clad in boxers. His hair is tousled from sleep. He gives me a big grin. I glare at him, opening the fridge door. As much as I want to go to straight to my bed, my stomach is acting as if I’ll die if I don’t eat. Sean starts making coffee.
“So what happened.” I look at him, as I fix a bagel. I can’t tell him anything that happened.
“Homicide stuff.”
“Awww…come on! You can tell …” He stops and steps away from me. “You smell of blood and worse things.” I freeze. Shit. I didn’t get any blood on me, but the smell must have gotten on my clothes. Just what I need him to do…turn furry on me the day of the full moon. I look at him. His eyes are swirling from amber back to gray. He’s managing to fight his beast. I make a beeline to my room to change clothes. When I come back he doesn’t step away or start to go all beastie on me. We continue what we were doing. I then realize I have no way of contacting Orlando.
“Sean, do you know of how I can get a hold of Orlando?” Sean turns to me with the goofiest grin on his face.
“Finally calling for a booty call?” I glare.
“No, I need to get a hold of him and talk to him about the case.” Sean stops grinning.
“Is he in trouble?”
“No. I just need to talk to him about it.” Sean searches my eyes. I’m really thankful that he isn’t an Empath, but he would be able to smell a lie…something an Empath can’t detect. He goes to his room and comes back, handing me a card.
“This is one of the places he owns. You can leave a message for him at the desk, since he usually stops in every night to see how everything is running. I look down at the card. The card is black with the white profile of a woman, her head thrown back in pleasure. Her mouth is open, revealing fangs. Written in blue gothic print is MIDNIGHT PLEASURES. I stare at it for a moment, before I realize what the place is.
“A strip club?” I start to laugh, not able to hold it in…I blame it on lack of sleep. Why didn’t I see that coming? That is so Orlando.
“He also owns a restaurant. It’s called Blood and Chocolate, but that is having its finishing touches done to it.” I stop laughing and pick up the phone. The phone rings a couple of times, before a person answers.
“Midnight Pleasures. This is Zane Himmler.” The person sounds young, in his early twenties. I feel disgust. Zane is most likely one of those walking blood banks. He’s one of those that hang around vampires and lets them munch on him when they wake.
“Zane, I was wondering if there was a way I could leave a message for Orlando?” There’s a pause. He’s probably trying to figure out how I know him and how I know he owns the club.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Viggo Mortensen.” He pauses again, this time letting my name sink in. He most likely knows I’m the Executioner.
“I’m sorry, Orlando is busy.” I sigh. Yeah, he’s fucking dead to the world at the moment.
“Look I need to talk to him about information that could affect him and his vampires. His safety and theirs could be at stake.” Zane pauses and finally decides to take the message. I give the number to the apartment. After making sure that Zane will tell Orlando I called I hang up and eat my bagel. Sean is looking at me amused. I glare at him.
“You going out on your first date?”
“No! If we do go out, it’s to discuss the case.”
“Bullshit!” Sean coughs into his hand. I give him the bird as I go to my room. I quickly change back into my pajama pants and crawl into bed. I roll over and set my alarm for four o’ clock. It’s seven. That gives me plenty of time to sleep and then I can hopefully get dressed before dusk. I sigh and let sleep take over.
*Next chapter is Viggo’s first “date” with Orlando.*
Pairings: VM/OB, DM/EW/BB, KU/SB, and OB/DM. Pairings hinted at: OB/DM/KU
Rating: R
Summary: Viggo is called in to a homicide for his expertise.
Warnings: Sexy dream, vampirism, blood and gore, and language
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The people in the story are real people, but are not the preternatural creatures I make them. None of these people are mine.
Author’s note: This is an AU fanfiction. Story is told from Viggo’s point of view. This story is taking place in the world of the Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton. Some references will be made to the series.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Archive: If you want to archive this or the previous chapters on your site, just tell me where it’s going. That’s all.
I’m standing in a room that I do not recognize. The light is dim, due to a light fixture overhead that is adjustable. Wait…that seems very familiar. Some more light is coming from candles that hang from fixtures on the wall. It hits me. I’m in the room that Dom described yesterday. The room that he had been in when he found out who Orlando was. Yep, and there is the king sized bed…the king sized bed that has a VERY naked Orlando sprawled out on it. He seems even paler against the black sheets. His brown eyes met mine. He smirks spreading his legs, looking very wanton. My body seemed to shake with desire at the sight of him spread before me. I blink. I don’t remember moving until I’m standing at the bed. Shit. That’s just a little scary. Orlando’s eyes are filled with amusement, at the sight of my confusion. He rolls off of his back and crawls towards me. I stare fascinated, as he crawls towards me in that feline grace he has. Soon he is kneeling at the edge of the bed, an arms length away. He reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me into a searing kiss. Orlando tilts his head as I start to gain dominance in the kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues meet in a duel in his mouth, as the kiss seemed to get hungrier. I pull back as I felt my tongue run over his fangs, cutting it slightly. Orlando’s eyes hold a hungry look in them. What does he hunger for more? The blood or the sex? I watch as he brings his right wrist to his mouth. He pulls his lips back, baring a quick glimpse of his fangs before they bite into his wrist. There was no flicker of pain across his face or eyes, as he bites down. He pulls his lips away, and looks at his now bleeding wrist. For a moment he seems fascinated at the sight of his own blood. He flicks his tongue over the wound. I watch his throat swallow the small amount of blood he had lapped up. Orlando looks at me, his brown eyes dark. He holds his wrist out to me and speaks in that purr.
“Come Viggo.” I stare at the blood running from the wound and over his hand. My eyes follow as a drop falls to the white carpet, staining it. His voice brings my eyes back to him. “You know you want to try it. You are curious.” I keep my eyes on him as I take his wrist to my mouth. His eyes darken until they are pools of black. The bloodlust has him. He growls, pulling his wrist from me before I even have the chance to taste him. Orlando grabs a hold of me and pulls me onto him, falling back on the bed. Immediately our lips meet, wanting to devour the other. My hands grip at his waist, as his arms snake down my back and then grab my ass. I moan into his mouth, grinding down on him. He pulls back from the kiss, to throw his head back and moan. His eyes meet mine and for a moment I feel fear looking into those pools of black, but the fear is pushed aside as he grinds up to meet me. His hands are now beginning to pull at the bottom of my shirt. Oh…I’m still dressed. He manages to pull my shirt off. I moan as he bites at my neck and collarbone. A low growl trickles from his lips. I stiffen in fear, knowing what is going to happen. His fangs are bared, as he grabs a handful of my hair. Then…
The phone rings. My eyes shoot open. I blink in surprise. It was a dream, but it seemed so real. I could almost still feel Orlando’s lips on mine. My cock hardened at the thought. Shit. I had an erection. The phone rang again. I glance at the clock by my bed. WHO IN THEIR FUCKING RIGHT MIND WOULD CALL AT FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING? I’m going to kill whoever is on the other fucking line. It rings again. I shoot an angry glare at the wall between mine and Sean’s room. I thought wereanimals had very sensitive hearing. But I guess they can chose to ignore certain things. The phone rings again. It’s starting to sound as if it is getting louder with each ring. Finally I yank the phone off its cradle, at the same time tempted to throw it across the room.
“You better have a fucking good reason for calling this early.” I growl into the phone. There is silence. Good, maybe I scared them and I can go back to bed.
“Is Viggo Mortensen there?” Damn, no such luck.
“This is he.” The growl is gone from my voice, but I still sound pissed. Good.
“This is Sergeant John-Rhys-Davies I am in charge of RPIT.” I blink in surprise. RPIT stands for the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team and is pronounced “rip it”. They handle all supernatural-related homicides and crimes. It deals with vampires, wereanimals, ghosts, zombies, etc. RPIT is known as the spook squad of the police of Seattle. The don’t just do cases in Seattle; they work on cases all around the state. There have even been some supernatural cases outside of Washington that have called them in for help. There is talk that they are trying to expand RPIT and try to have a squad for every city in the country. But that would be a lot of money and time on teaching the police about preternatural creatures or beings. I had looked up some information on RPIT, when I had been reading the paper and they were mentioned in a break-in that involved a zombie. I blink again, as Davies continues. “I’m sorry for calling you so early in the morning, but I am calling because there has been a homicide.”
“And that affects me how?” Damn, I can be mean. There is a chuckle on the other end.
“Since you are The Executioner and now a Federal Marshall, I figured it’d be best to call you and get your expertise on this.”
“What if I don’t know what did it?” Davies chuckles.
“I would be very surprised seeing how you studied preternatural sciences and other preternatural related classes in college.” Whoa…
“How…” Again he chuckles.
“I’m looking at my laptop and have your background and education. I had to pull it up, because I had to convince people that you were the right person to get expertise from.”
“You guys have done plenty of supernatural cases before. Why do you need me?”
“Because there is something a little off about this one. Something that doesn’t quite seem like what it is supposed to look like.” He’s being honest. I don’t know what to say. Personally I want to crawl back into bed and sleep, but he sounds he like he really wants my help. I sigh.
“Fine. Give me directions and I should be there in an hour or so.”
“An hour?”
“I need to shower, put clothes on, and get there. Plus I’ve only been here a little over a week and don’t know my way around quite yet.” Davies then gives me directions to the place. The crime scene is in the woods behind Custard Cemetery, over on the other side of highway I-5. Okay this will take me about an hour. After I assure Davies that I can get there, we hang up. I flop my head back onto my pillow and groan loudly. Laughter comes from my doorway. Sean is leaning in the doorway, laughing at me. I glare at him. “Let me guess…you decided to ignore the phone?” Laughter is still in his eyes, as he shrugs.
“I figured the phone was for you anyway, with the history you’ve had over the past three days.” I glare and throw one of my pillows at him. He catches it with reflexes like….well, a cat. Sean laughs more. I throw another pillow. He’s too busy laughing and doesn’t react in time, as it hits his face. I sneer at him triumphantly. Bastard. He chuckles and chucks them at me, one after the other. It’s early and I’m tired so my reflexes aren’t sharp, as they hit me in the face. Sean grins, his gray eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m going to bed. See you in…” He glances at my clock. “…a few hours.” With that, he turns to leave the room.
“FUCKER!” I yell at him. His laughter is heard, as he closes his door. I groan, as I drag myself out of bed and grab some clean clothes.
Okay, there’s Monarch St. I make a right turn as John had said in his directions. In front of me looms the large iron gate surrounding the cemetery. It towers at around fifteen feet into the air. At the top of the gate are large points. There is no possible way of scaling the fence, unless of course you are some preternatural creature. I don’t go through the gate, like most people would, but go around the cemetery to the woods in back. I come to the woods as John instructed. All along the road are vehicles that are there for the crime scene. There are police cars, unmarked police cars, an ambulance, and a large black van that has FORENSICS written across its side. It was a shock during my first homicide case to actually see how many people go to a scene. I park my car amongst all of them. Before getting out of the car I reach into the glove compartment and grab my Executioner badge. It isn’t really a badge, but is a laminated picture ID on a clip. Nothing spectacular, but will get me on a crime scene. Plus the fact that all Executioners are now Federal Marshals. Once outside of my car, I realize that I stand out like a sore thumb. All of the others are dressed in their uniforms or in the case of the detectives on Homicide or with RPIT; are wearing dress pants, shirt, and a tie. I threw on a pair of worn looking blue jeans. The bottom of each pant leg is starting to fray and there is a hole over my right knee. Besides the jeans I opted for a black sweatshirt with a hood and large pocket in front. Personally if I’m going to be working around a dead body, I REALLY don’t want to get clothes that I love covered in blood and other stuff. I clip my badge to my sweatshirt and begin making my way towards the police line, hoping to find John-Rhys-Davies. As I approach the police line, a man approaches me. He doesn’t look very happy. He is around my height, give or take a couple inches. His brown hair is cut short and slicked back with gel. Brown eyes harden at the sight of me before speaking.
“This is an crime scene investigation, no civilians.” Okay, I can let that slide…I mean I look like a civilian.
“I was…” He cuts in.
“No civilians.” I blink and try to keep my face blank. His badge on his uniform attracts my attention. It reads: Capt. H. Sinclair. I look into his eyes, keeping my face and eyes blank.
“You see Mr. Sinclair…” He stiffens and obviously doesn’t like being addressed this way. “…I received a phone call about an hour ago from a Sergeant John-Rhys-Davies, wanting me to bring my expertise to this case.” Sinclair finally notices my laminated badge and narrows his eyes at me.
“I don’t need any Feds on my case.” I sigh. I’ve just pissed in his pond. Most cops don’t like the Feds coming into their territories and working on their cases. Funny, they seem more territorial than some wereanimals I have recently met. At the moment I’m very tired, after have been woken up about an hour ago. I think it’s time to piss some people off. I sneer at him.
“Well technically, this isn’t your case. This is RPIT’s.” His hands clench at his sides with the effort not to do something stupid to me. If he so much as lays a hand on me, he could be taken off the force for striking a Federal Marshal. A deep voice takes our attention from each other.
“Sinclair!” Sinclair glares at me before turning to the man approaching. The man is taller than me and is big. Not big as in fat, but bulk. His brown hair is balding. On his face is a goatee and mustache. Brown eyes seem to twinkle at me with kindness. “You must be Viggo Mortensen.” He holds his hand out to shake mine. I realize I’ve heard that voice.
“And you must be Sergeant John-Rhys-Davies.” I take his hand and we shake. Sinclair is outraged.
“Who gave you the right to authorize him on the case?” Davies’s eyes don’t seem to have that sparkle in them anymore, as he looks at Sinclair.
“For one: Viggo is a Federal Marshal and could walk onto this investigation without as much as giving a warning. Two: I spoke to Hugo. He was the one who was originally called to the scene and called me.” Sinclair glares at me harder and stalks off. Davies chuckles to himself. “About a year ago Harry became the captain of the police. He doesn’t like people fucking with his business.” I nod as Davies starts to direct me towards the woods and obviously, the body. As we walk across the grass, I begin to notice how very few people are actually near the body. There are a cluster of plainclothes, which are most likely detectives, standing around drinking from their coffee tumblers. The local cops are walking around, keeping themselves busy. Near the forest is a young cop doubled over vomiting into the bushes. His buddy is rubbing his back, consoling him. The young cop continues vomiting his stomach contents until there is nothing and he is left dry heaving. I’m not liking this.
“Why is no one near the body?” Davies glances at me out the corner of his eyes.
“Everyone is done with looking at the body. Forensics have come through and collected what they needed. There’s still some evidence they need to pick up, but they are waiting for you to go through the scene. The crime scene photographer took his pictures…everyone’s ready to go once you’re done.” He avoiding the answer I’m looking for.
“How bad is it?” Davies stops before we head into the woods. I can see it in his eyes; he’s considering not telling me.
“Pretty damn bad.” With that he starts down a path in the woods. It’s a miracle that he can find the path. Since it is late October, the leaves are falling from the trees and are beginning to coat the forest floor. He leads off from what seems to be the main path and down a smaller one. This one leads deeper into the woods, further away from people talking and the crackling of radios. The only noise is the birds that are starting to rise and the sound of the leaves crunching under our feet. I look at him.
“Who found the body?”
“Some guy by the name of James Peterson. He was jogging with his dog on the main path. The dog went off the path and found the body. He called the police and homicide was sent out. Hugo Weaving…he’s in charge of homicide, took one look at the body and realized it wasn’t done by anything human and called me.” I would REALLY hate to be the guy that found the body. We come to a clearing and stop. The man that was in the clearing looks up at our entrance. He is around my height with blonde hair that has that just-out-of-bed look. Either he literally rolled out of bed and changed or he towel dried his hair after a shower and just let it stay that way. His blue/gray eyes shine with a mischievous light. He’s wearing blue dress pants and a white striped dress shirt. The top couple of buttons are undone and the tie that he is wearing had been pulled looser from around his neck, until it hung almost halfway down his chest. He seems to have been writing notes when we interrupted him. Davies steps between the two of us. “Viggo, this is Dave Wenham. Dave, this is Viggo Mortensen our local Executioner.” Dave smiles broadly as he shakes my hand.
“Ready to look at the body?” He seems very pleased with himself and I’m starting to wonder if he’s looking forward to me throwing up. I follow him and Davies further into the clearing. Scattered around the clearing are little flags/markers. Each of the markers are color coded. Forensics must have gone through and put up the markers by bits of evidence that might help me, but will have to pick up once I’m done. I never understood why Forensics chose to do that or how they keep track of what color marker goes with what kind of evidence. They lead to a body bag. All three of us stop before the bag. For a moment none of us make a move to open the bag. I finally step forward, but turn to Davies.
“Do you have any gloves?” In response he reaches into a pocket and pulls out two latex gloves. I take them from him, kneel down, and put them on.
“Try not to ruin the body or evidence.” Dave says from behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Davies elbowing him in the chest. Basically Dave is telling me not to lose my stomach contents on the body. I take a deep breath as I slowly unzip the bag. Immediately I pull away, coughing and trying to force down the vomit that I can feel rising in my throat. I swallow a couple of times to get rid of the feeling.
“Are you okay Viggo?” Davies says behind me, genuinely sounding concerned. I nod, not wanting to answer. Taking a large breath of air, I look back down at the body. The body was once a very pretty young woman, mid-twenties. She had black hair, which now fans around her face. Her hazel eyes are glassy and unseeing as she stares towards her right. I look down the length of her body. Her stomach had been torn open, exposing her vital organs; intestines spilling out. Her organs seem to be intact. One of her arms is at a horrible angle, the bone jutting out. On one point of the arm, it literally looks like something started to gnaw on her. The other arm…on the other side of the clearing. But the one thing that is confusing, her chest. Ribs stick straight out of her chest, blood staining them; catching the early morning light. It looks like someone or something reached into her chest and just ripped it open. A couple of the ribs are broken; evidence that whatever did this had the strength. I rest back on my heels, trying to stare anywhere, but at the body. “We think it’s a wereanimal.” I want to yell at them for dragging me here. This is the worst homicide I’ve seen. The others were obvious what did it. A couple of neat puncture wounds in the neck; vampire. Dead body with an arm ripped off, stomach gored; wereanimal. Yes, they called me here to look at the body and confirm what they thought, but I didn’t like this. Davies goes on. “I mean last night was the night before the full moon. We figure that she was out with her boyfriend or lover and they got in a heated argument. He lost control and attacked her. Some of my men are calling her family to tell them what happened and to see if she had a boyfriend. That way we could question him.” He goes on, but I’m not listening. I look down at the right side of her neck. Blood is covering it. I swallow hard, as I take a hold of her head and turn it to the side. There is some resistance. The right side of her neck is stained with blood. I look closely and notice that it looks like something bit her and took a chunk out. Looking a tad bit further up from that, are two puncture marks. I pause. Then it comes to me. I reach into her open chest and feel around. Behind me Davies is speaking and Dave is writing the notes down.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dave yells. I look up. Both of them looking at me like I’m the craziest person they’ve seem.
“This wasn’t done by a wereanimal.” Both of them look at me confused. “This is too neat to be a wereanimal kill.” Dave looks at me like I’m crazy.
“You call this neat?” He points at the body as he raises his voice. “Oh yeah, that is soo fucking neat.” I glare at him.
“If a wereanimal did this, there would have been more of a struggle. Plus, if a wereanimal did this, there’d be pieces of the body scattered around this clearing.” Both Dave and Davies look like they’re going to be sick just at the thought. “Or, there would be barely a body left…the wereanimal would eat the body the night before the full moon. When a wereanimal is forced to shift, they become animals and need to feed; to calm the beast, to have more control over it. That’s why most wereanimals try to change in the woods. There’s tons of prey without them coming across humans. One of the main reasons is this…her heart is gone…taken. A wereanimal wouldn’t have paused to look just for the heart; it would have gone through anything in the way. The heart is the storage of our blood…it wouldn’t have cared for the blood, it would have wanted the meat.” There’s an awkward silence, as I stand.
“You said something about them being forced to change. Can they change or shift on their own?” Davies asks.
“Yes. It’s usually the more dominant or the stronger ones that can shift at their own will and without it being the full moon. But once it’s the week of the full moon, they lose some or all control of the change…like all the other wereanimals.”
“So, if it’s not a wereanimal…what is it?” Dave asks.
“A vampire.”
“WHAT!?” Both of them say at the same time. The looks on their faces tell me they don’t believe me. I reach down and point at the neck of the body and point while I talk.
“Here it looks like something bit her and took a chunk out, but here you can clearly see two puncture marks. Notice that around the edges of the puncture marks the skin is rough and ragged….torn. Vampire puncture marks are neat.”
“So that means it’s not a vampire?” Dave looks at me. “I’m confused.”
“It is a vampire…a revenant vampire.” They both give me blank looks. I guess it is a good thing that I am the Executioner and I know stuff about vampires. “Revenant vampires are the newly risen vampires. They are more animal, than regular vampires. They can’t control the bloodlust and become an animal when feeding. Usually the vampire that created them or brought them over, their sire, helps them control the hunger.”
“Then why would this one attack?”
“There are two possible reasons. One: the sire isn’t strong enough to control the revenant, two: the sire is dead…” I pause. No, there’s a third reason. “…or three: another Master vampire is in the territory and is after the Master of the City.”
“What’s a Master vampire?”
“A Master vampire is one that has reached its full power and has the power to rule its own territory. A Master of the City is basically that, it’s the Master of the vampires in that city or territory. What this could be is another Master vampire is in the territory and is doing this to bring the police’s attention and the Master of the City’s attention off of it, so it can move in and kill the Master of the City…then take the territory.”
“Are you sure that it’s not any of the other two?” Davies asks me. He and Dave are listening to me attentively. I open my mouth to answer him, but stop. Two people have entered the clearing. One is Sinclair, the other… I have no idea.
“Have we wrapped this up and figured out what did it?” His voice is deep and sounds sexual. Great Viggo, you’re thinking of sex at a murder scene. Must be the aftermath of that dream. Davies shakes his head.
“No we haven’t wrapped up, but Viggo has been telling us what he believes did it. I have to say I agree with him.” The man turns to me, turning soft brown eyes to me.
“So, you’re the Executioner? I’m Hugo Weaving.” We shake hands. He a little bit taller than me and more slender. His black hair receding. He smiles, an eyebrow arching up. “So what is your theory?” I tell him everything that I told Dave and Davies. After I tell him everything, he looks at me impressed. He smiles. “John believed you’d be the best to help us on this case and I have to very much agree. I mean without you knowing things about vampires, all of us would have assumed wereanimal.” His eyebrows furrow. “How can you be certain that the other two reasons aren’t possible?”
“I’m not. The best thing to do now is actually talk to the Master of the City.” Hugo nods.
“Good idea. John and I can work on getting a hold of the Master of the City.” They turn to leave.
“No.” They look back at me. “Orlan...h-he won’t talk to you.” Great, give up Orlando’s name. Dave caught my slip and smirks, eyeing me as if he’s trying to read me. He’s beginning to unnerve me. I’m starting to wonder if he has some psychic abilities. RPIT is known to let in psychics and witches in on the squad for help on the cases. Hugo cocks his head to the side.
“Why do you say that?”
“Vampires don’t care for the police. They don’t pay attention or follow our laws. They have their own set of laws they have to follow. They just don’t associate with the police. You try to get a hold of the Master of the City; he will avoid you at all costs. And if you actually talk to him, he’ll give you half truths. Just put it this way, vampires don’t like the police.” Dave smirked.
“You said he. How do you know the Master of the City is a he?” Fuck. All of their eyes turn to look at me. Why do I feel nervous? I shouldn’t…I mean it’s not a horrible thing that I know the Master of the City. I clear my throat.
“I have met him.” Eyebrows raise, while Dave snorts trying to hold in his laughter. I glare at him, not really finding what’s so funny. Davies looks at me.
“How did you meet him?”
“Actually he came to me. He’s been the Master of this territory for over a hundred years and in that time he has never had an Executioner in it.” I shrugged. “He was just curious.” Harry glares at me and says with an evil smirk,
“And who do you think should talk to the vampire? What are you going to do? Magically call forth some other preternatural creature to talk to him? Oooo…better yet, why don’t you raise one of the dead, so that it can talk to him. I mean he is dead, maybe he’ll understand it better.” I glare at him. I’m pretty sure everyone in this clearing knows that I’m an animator, but that was low. I keep a blank look on my face as I look at him and answer.
“Me.” Harry snorted and Dave smirked, while Davies and Hugo blinked at me. Hugo raised an eyebrow.
“And why you?”
“Because he already knows me and would rather talk to me than you guys.” I sneer in Harry’s direction. I’m really beginning to hate him I also don’t want to mention the fact that he would talk to me, because he wants me and I want him. Another one of the reasons I want to talk to Orlando about the case, I just want to see him. I know that doesn’t sound right from the Executioner, but screw it…I want the Master Vampire of the City. Hugo nods.
“But if he learns that you are talking to him on police business won’t he become upset and decide not to talk to you.” I think it over.
“Not that I know of. I mean if we keep him informed on what is happening in the case, I’m pretty sure he’ll cooperate.” Hugo shakes his head.
“That’s out of the question. We are not allowing the vampire to know what’s going on in the case.” I sigh.
“Fine.” I shrug. “If we withhold information from him and he learns about it, he will decide to no longer cooperate.” Davies and Hugo glance at each other. Harry sneers, his eyes lighting up with an almost maniac gleam.
“But if he withholds information that can be seen as murder, since he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t have a chance in front of the judge and would be executed.” I stiffen, knowing where this is going. “And you will be the one to execute him.” Hugo whirls around.
“That is enough! I don’t know what Viggo did to piss you off, but you need to stop. We are all working on this case together. Try to cooperate at least when you are on the case. If you do this outside of the case, I don’t really care.” Harry glares at him. Davies and Hugo start to talk amongst themselves. I avoid looking at Harry, I might provoke him or I might have to hurt him. Dave is looking at me intently, a smirk playing on his face. I’m really going to have to ask him if he’s some form of psychic. Davies turns to me.
“Okay, you can keep the vampire informed on what is happening in the case.” Harry’s mouth falls open. I smile, a baring of teeth. “Explain to him that he will remain informed about the case and he must tell us everything that he knows and believes will help us. Tell him that if he doesn’t keep us informed or withholds information and we find out, he will be arrested and that can lead to worse.” I nod. Hugo steps forward.
“Well, I guess that wraps this up. I’ll tell forensics they can wrap up.” He holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Viggo. I think you are going to be great help in this case.” He and Harry leave. Davies hands me a card.
“This is to keep in contact if you learn anything of value. Thank you for the help so far and good luck with the vampire.” He nods at me before following in Hugo’s and Harry’s direction. Dave approaches me.
“You might want to keep your emotions in check.” He smirks, then holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you.” I stare at him blankly as he makes his way up the path. Then it hits me. He’s an Empath. Dave can feel other people’s emotions or feelings. He can feel pain, pleasure, and many others. No wonder he was always watching me and smirking. Dave could feel my emotions. I quickly run after him and catch him outside of the woods.
“Dave!” He turns around, an amused look on his face. I pant for a moment, but manage to continue. “You’re an Empath.” Dave cocks his head to the side.
“You are learned well.” He jokes.
“Do they know?” I point towards the others.
“Yes. I mean I tried to hide it for the longest time. They found out back at headquarters when I walked past a broom closet and collapsed to my knees and started to moan. They thought I was going to have a seizure. Turned out a young couple was in the closet going at it and I had collapsed, cuz I could feel everything happening. Sexual pleasure is the strongest feeling and the hardest to block, no matter how long you have known you are an Empath.” In the distance Davies yells for him. “Well, better get back to boss-man.” I shake my head and head to my car.
When I walk through the door, Sean walks out of his room, clad in boxers. His hair is tousled from sleep. He gives me a big grin. I glare at him, opening the fridge door. As much as I want to go to straight to my bed, my stomach is acting as if I’ll die if I don’t eat. Sean starts making coffee.
“So what happened.” I look at him, as I fix a bagel. I can’t tell him anything that happened.
“Homicide stuff.”
“Awww…come on! You can tell …” He stops and steps away from me. “You smell of blood and worse things.” I freeze. Shit. I didn’t get any blood on me, but the smell must have gotten on my clothes. Just what I need him to do…turn furry on me the day of the full moon. I look at him. His eyes are swirling from amber back to gray. He’s managing to fight his beast. I make a beeline to my room to change clothes. When I come back he doesn’t step away or start to go all beastie on me. We continue what we were doing. I then realize I have no way of contacting Orlando.
“Sean, do you know of how I can get a hold of Orlando?” Sean turns to me with the goofiest grin on his face.
“Finally calling for a booty call?” I glare.
“No, I need to get a hold of him and talk to him about the case.” Sean stops grinning.
“Is he in trouble?”
“No. I just need to talk to him about it.” Sean searches my eyes. I’m really thankful that he isn’t an Empath, but he would be able to smell a lie…something an Empath can’t detect. He goes to his room and comes back, handing me a card.
“This is one of the places he owns. You can leave a message for him at the desk, since he usually stops in every night to see how everything is running. I look down at the card. The card is black with the white profile of a woman, her head thrown back in pleasure. Her mouth is open, revealing fangs. Written in blue gothic print is MIDNIGHT PLEASURES. I stare at it for a moment, before I realize what the place is.
“A strip club?” I start to laugh, not able to hold it in…I blame it on lack of sleep. Why didn’t I see that coming? That is so Orlando.
“He also owns a restaurant. It’s called Blood and Chocolate, but that is having its finishing touches done to it.” I stop laughing and pick up the phone. The phone rings a couple of times, before a person answers.
“Midnight Pleasures. This is Zane Himmler.” The person sounds young, in his early twenties. I feel disgust. Zane is most likely one of those walking blood banks. He’s one of those that hang around vampires and lets them munch on him when they wake.
“Zane, I was wondering if there was a way I could leave a message for Orlando?” There’s a pause. He’s probably trying to figure out how I know him and how I know he owns the club.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Viggo Mortensen.” He pauses again, this time letting my name sink in. He most likely knows I’m the Executioner.
“I’m sorry, Orlando is busy.” I sigh. Yeah, he’s fucking dead to the world at the moment.
“Look I need to talk to him about information that could affect him and his vampires. His safety and theirs could be at stake.” Zane pauses and finally decides to take the message. I give the number to the apartment. After making sure that Zane will tell Orlando I called I hang up and eat my bagel. Sean is looking at me amused. I glare at him.
“You going out on your first date?”
“No! If we do go out, it’s to discuss the case.”
“Bullshit!” Sean coughs into his hand. I give him the bird as I go to my room. I quickly change back into my pajama pants and crawl into bed. I roll over and set my alarm for four o’ clock. It’s seven. That gives me plenty of time to sleep and then I can hopefully get dressed before dusk. I sigh and let sleep take over.
*Next chapter is Viggo’s first “date” with Orlando.*
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