Rating: NC:17
Warning: This story contains scenes of graphic consensual sex between a man and
a woman. If you are under 18, this offends you, or this is illegal where you
live, please read no further.
Disclaimer: The character of Scotty is taken from the Kiwi Comedy Playhouse
episode of "Flatmates" and belongs to South Pacific Pictures. No
copyright infringement is intended.
"Your attention ladies and gentlemen," the head flight attendant’s voice sounded over the jetliner’s intercom, startling Tara Wells from the intense concentration she had been focusing on the computer screen in front of her.
"We will be beginning our descent to Auckland International Airport momentarily. At this time, we ask that you turn off any electronic devices, including computers and cellular phones." Tara sighed as she closed the laptop and returned it to its carrying case. She had been working for the entire time she had been allowed to during the flight and she was no further along than she’d been yesterday. She had not expected it to be easy but dammit all, there had to be SOME trace of Leopold Granger somewhere.
World-renowned entrepreneurs and philanthropists, especially one as flamboyant as Leo simply did NOT vanish from the face of the earth. And yet, at approximately 8:45 p.m. ten days ago, Granger had walked into his health club and vanished. No note, no call. Nothing. That Wells was on this case so soon after the disappearance spoke volumes as to the desperation of Granger’s associates. Without him at the helm, Leo’s empire might as well have been a chicken without a head. Why, the economies of entire countries could be severely impaired by the fallout if word got out about the disappearance, and, especially, if he was not found. Thus far, a tight lid had been kept on things. But it was only a matter of time. And when it was out, it was going to hit the proverbial fan. Big time.
Which was why SHE was on the job. Known to most of the world as Tara Wells, professor of creative writing at Harvard University, certain individuals also knew her by a phone number to call when certain kinds of things, supernatural things, needed investigating. There were a handful of special government agents like her, individuals blessed—or cursed—depending on one’s point of view, with a special ability to "sense" things most people could not, but their identities were not known to each other.
Tara was not quite successful in blocking a wave of bitterness, as she recalled Phillip’s death. Maybe if she’d known—she shook her head again. She had a job to do.
Although frustrated with her lack of progress during the plane ride, Tara had nevertheless accomplished more in the forty eight hours after getting the file than the CIA, FBI and other mundane agencies had accomplished in one week. She’d traced recent activities on Granger’s personal holdings (a task which daunted the government’s best hackers), through an impressive network of dummies and fronts to a small bank in New Zealand, of all places. What’s more, she had determined that the account had been recently drawn upon, several times, all following Granger’s disappearance. This, in and of itself, did not alert her "antenna" for the supernatural. What DID give her pause was that all the withdrawals had been made after sundown. And they had been sufficiently large that they would have had to be made in person. Which meant that the account was located at an institution that catered to night owls. Rich night owls. Blood drinking undead night owls. In a word: vampires.
Tara’s dark eyes glittered.
"If you could straighten your seat," a flight attendant said. "Oh," Tara said, complying. "Sorry mate." Her kiwi accent was perfect. She had an ear for language that stood her in good stead.
Lucy and Scotty stood side by side in front of Mr. D’s desk. He sat, staring intently at the front page of the local newspaper. As he had been doing for the last hour. "Teen couple killed by—Vampires?" the headline read. It described the horrific murder of a high school couple in the park. They had been mutilated and killed. And there had been virtually NO blood left at the scene. Mr. D rubbed his chin. He knew very well that the atrocity was the work of foreigners or renegades. None of his coven would ever stoop to this messy brutality. The world may once have known him as Vlad Tempus Dracula or Vlad the Impaler, but now he preferred to keep a lower profile as the shadowy Mr. D. His coven kept a low profile as well.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, as usual. "Lucy, get out there, find this reporter and do some damage control. Discreetly." Lucy left quickly, not envying Scotty. Vlad turned to Scotty. "I want them found and I want them disposed of." Scotty nodded and turned to leave.
The phone rang. "Wait," Vlad said, picking up the receiver. He listened for a moment, then, to Scotty’s astonishment, he actually raised his voice, "WHAT?" The lapse was momentary only. "When and where?" Mr. D asked evenly. "Very well," his voice had gone dangerously soft. "And when you return I trust you will explain why she’s been here since last night and you only saw fit to tell me now." Scotty was glad he was not on the other end of the phone. Mr. D hung up. For several moments he stared silently at the newspaper article. Then turned to Scotty.
"Follow me," he said. Scotty complied, although his stomach was knotted with an apprehension he had not felt since his transformation. Mr. D led Scotty to an ornate elevator, which they rode down to a level Scotty had never seen before. Silently, they proceeded to a locked door. Mr. D unlocked it and gestured for Scotty to precede him. It was a study. In fact, Scotty realized, this must be the bosses’ private sanctuary. Mr. D pulled a heavy key from his pocket and unlocked a drawer in the antique desk occupying the middle of the room. From the drawer, he pulled a thick file, which he handed to Scotty.
"Read it and memorize it. It does not leave this room." Mr. D then left Scotty alone.
Intrigued, Scotty examined the folder. It was labeled "Wells."
Three hours later Scotty sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He had a headache for the first time since his transformation.
"You’ve memorized it?" Mr. D stood behind him.
"Yeah." Scotty replied, his heart heavy with the weight of knowledge.
"Among us, only you, Lucy and myself are aware of what she is and what she can do."
Mr. D’s eyes were sad. "I covered our tracks well when I left America. There is a chance that her presence here is a mere coincidence—that it has to do with the renegades and not me. I want you to find out for certain why she is here. If it IS because of me, as much as I don’t like the idea, she will have to be killed. She knows too much and my instincts tell me that she would rather die than become one of us. After all, it was vampires that caused her lover’s death."
Mr. D sighed, then almost to himself, he said, "He would not have died that day if it were not for me. Stop," he raised his hands as Scotty started to protest. "I’m sending you Scotty because I know that if you have to do it, you’ll do it quickly and compassionately." Scotty handed Mr. D the file and turned to leave. " Scotty," Mr. D called after him, "I don’t have to tell you to be discreet." Scotty nodded and left.
Mr. D, sunk into the chair, anguish etched in his eyes.
The first morning, Tara set up base and cased the bank. She was checked in at a modestly priced hotel downtown. After a quick lunch in her room she got to work trying to hack into the bank’s entire system. The actual hacking was not difficult. It was doing it without being detected that had given her fits on the plane ride. It took an afternoon of wending her way through the bank’s myriad cyber security measures, but she finally did it. "Gotcha," she said, smiling with satisfaction. For several minutes, she studied the screen intently, absorbing information. Then she froze. She had been viewing the bank’s archive of security tapes—showing the coming and going of customers, when a familiar form caught her attention. There was no mistake. "Lucy," Tara breathed. Which meant only one thing. Vlad was in Auckland. She cut the connection with the bank.
Tara suddenly felt sick. Was Vlad involved in Leo’s disappearance? Her head was pounding and she realized that night had fallen. She needed to think, and that meant getting out of her room for a bit. She stowed the hard drive of her pc in an inside pocket of her leather jacket, armed herself, and left the hotel. ‘Vlad,’ she thought to herself. ‘Please not Vlad.’
That evening saw Tara at a club where a local kiwi was playing with his band. The man was a fairly well known actor, apparently due to his role in two fantasy shows she had never heard of. Tara wore tight fitting black slacks, a white blouse and flat black boots. Her short black hair was still wet from her early evening shower. The show was surprisingly good and Tara found herself enjoying it, despite her mission and her recent discovery. A couple of guys tried to hit on her but she rebuffed them so coldly that word must have got round the bar. She was left alone for most of the night. At midnight she headed for the bank. Almost the moment she left the club, she felt it—the tingling at the base of her neck that alerted her to the presence of vampires. Fine then. She was in the mood for a fight anyway. She pretended to wander around aimlessly and eventually turned into an alley. And found that she was no longer alone.
There were five of them. Three in front of her and two blocking the alley.
She didn’t hesitate. Her stun gun was in her hand in a second and two of the creatures went down. She did a somersault, narrowly avoiding gunfire from behind her. They didn’t use silencers. Which was bad because it meant they were not afraid of detection. She came up out of a tumble and pressed a button on the gun, releasing a long blade. In two swift motions, she decapitated the two stunned vampires. White-hot pain lanced her shoulder and she realized she’d been grazed. Spying a dumpster, Tara made a beeline for it, all the while firing blind shots at the remaining three monsters. She reached it, but the gunfire had stopped. She turned around.
Someone else had joined the fight, and he wasted no time, quickly dispatching all three opponents. She was impressed. Not even Phillip had demonstrated such prowess in battle.
He looked at her hiding spot, then pulled out a cell phone. He spoke into it. Then walked purposefully toward her.
Before she could flee, he was on her and had disarmed her. She winced at the pain in her shoulder, her vision blurring.
He gazed intently at her and she knew he was reading her thoughts. She didn’t block his probe quickly enough and it was obvious that he had gotten through. And that he seemed to be saddened by what he had discovered. "Sorry," he said, just before hitting her.
Scotty watched the woman sleeping. She’d been magnificent against the renegades. He’d never seen a mortal take on his kind so effectively. He had read Vlad’s name in her thoughts and he knew his orders but she deserved better than being killed in an alley.
Tara slowly regained consciousness. She was lying on a large bed, in a windowless room lit by candles.
"Welcome back."
She was too weak to sit up. So she settled for turning her head to look at him. He was gorgeous, longish thick dark hair framed a face that would almost have been too beautiful were it not accented by a thick moustache and beard. And his mouth. It was the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen.
"Why am I still alive?" she demanded. Then another horrible thought hit her. "I AM still alive, aren’t I?"
"Yes. I have it on—good authority that you would rather die than become one of us."
He walked toward the bed and sat down beside her. His hand touched her cheek. "It will be painless and quick. I promise." He turned her head so that she was not looking at him. His lips touched her neck. An involuntary gasp escaped Tara’s lips. Scotty stayed poised above her for several moments and then, withdrew. "Damn. I can’t do it."
Tara felt him lift her head and hold a glass at her lips. She didn’t have the strength to refuse. The drug worked quickly. Scotty picked her up and trundled her into his car. He managed to get her back to her hotel room without being seen. Only an hour till dawn. There was no choice. He had to leave.
"Mr. D is gonna have my head," he muttered, reluctantly leaving the drugged woman in her hotel.
Tara stayed in bed all the following day. She told herself it was delayed jet lag. But she knew better. She was terrified. Plain and simple. And tired. Maybe the after effects of whatever drug she had been given. She dozed, then slept. A sound in her room awakened her. It was dark and she knew she wasn’t alone. She opened her mouth to scream but a hand covered her mouth as a lamp was turned on. It was him. The one who could have killed her last night but hadn’t. "Promise to be quiet?" She nodded and he removed his hand.
"I’m Scotty, Tara."
"How do you know my name?"
"Does it really matter?"
"You’re with Vlad, aren’t you?"
Scotty sat down on the bed by her. Tentatively, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I won’t hurt you," he whispered, realizing that he meant it. He’d just have to find a way to make her drop her vendetta against Mr. D. Almost of their own accord, his hands began to stroke her hair. Scotty found himself becoming sexually aroused and tried to curb it. That was the LAST thing this woman would want. Sex with a vampire. He tried but could not entirely hide his physical attraction from her.
She raised her head and looked in his eyes. Gazes locked for several moments and then, slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers and their lips met. It was a long slow kiss that he ended as soon as she started to tense.
"I—, " she started to say. "I can’t do any, you know—"
"No teeth," Scotty finished her thought. She nodded mutely.
"Remember. I promised not to hurt you. No teeth. No nothing that you don’t want."
She looked at him a little uncertainly and then nodded, wondering distantly what in the hell she was doing. Scotty kissed her again, this time parting her lips and allowing his tongue to meet hers. Fire coursed through her as his tongue explored her mouth. She pulled him closer with her uninjured arm. His body pressed against her and she arched her back.
He sat up, straddling her and slowly removed his shirt. Tara had never seen such a beautiful chest, such perfectly sculpted abs. Scotty undid the buttons of her blouse and lowered his mouth to her breasts. Even through the cloth of her bra, his mouth on her nipples sent waves of pleasure flooding through her. Then one hand was removing her pants, then her panties. Slowly, he allowed one finger to circle her until it gently touched her clit. She cried out, arching again. His mouth covered hers as his finger probed. He drew it out, slowly rubbing her and then stopping just before she climaxed. His mouth had descended to her nipples again. Her breathing was harsh.
"Please," she moaned softly. He rubbed her more intensely and orgasm finally took her. She bucked against his hand, shaking with pleasure. Finally, she lay back, eyes shining. She moved her good hand to stroke the length of him under his pants. Holding her eyes with his own, he unzipped his pants and released his cock, pressing the tip against her mound. She shook in anticipation. Slowly, he entered her.
The feel of him burying himself in her was nothing short of amazing. Then, he began to thrust. He was not gentle, nor did she want him to be. She pushed herself against him, matching him thrust for thrust. Another orgasm tore through her. And another. Now his breathing was harsh and she knew he was getting ready to come. He crushed himself against her as he climaxed, thrusting into her deeply as he spilled his seed. Finally, they collapsed into each other’s arms. He held her tenderly.
God, it had been forever since he’d had sex that didn’t involve—He had wondered if it would be good. No need to worry as it turned out.
Tara fell asleep in Scotty’s arms. Careful not to disturb her, he rose from the bed and found a piece of hotel stationary. He wrote a note, placed it in an envelope and sealed it.
When she woke in the morning, all that remained to remind her of Scotty’s presence was the wetness between her legs and the note. Inviting her to a meeting with Vlad.
She stood outside the doors of Maximillian’s. It was 10:55 p.m. Five minutes before the meeting. She was fully armed—for what it was worth. Her foes of the previous night were one thing. Vlad was another, far more formidable, thing altogether. And she was sure he wouldn’t be alone. Still, the feel of her armbands, loaded with two stakes each, gave her some measure of comfort. Taking a deep breath, she entered the restaurant. It was empty. Of course. Two long tapers set in ornate silver candleholders lighted a single table. A bottle of her favorite French champagne—Billecart Salmon Brut—waited in a bucket of ice. Warily, Tara approached the table.
A waiter appeared, holding a tray of oysters. Japanese Kumimotos. Again, her favorite. She declined and he set the tray on the table. He opened the champagne and poured her a glass, which she also declined. He left it on the table as well and silently withdrew.
11:00. She sat down and picked up the glass after all, sipping. If Vlad wanted her dead, she was dead. Might as well enjoy the ride. She grimaced at her own morbid cynicism. There had been a time when she was considered overly optimistic. Only months ago. Life had taught her better. Or, rather, death had.
"I trust the champagne is to your liking."
Tara started as she realized that Vlad was now also seated at the table.
She downed the rest of the glass in a gulp, realizing that it was foolish to do so. The hell with it. Coming to this meeting was the most damn fool thing she’d ever done. Or maybe the second, Tara thought, remembering her intimacy with Scotty. As expected, Vlad was not alone. Scotty stood behind him, smiling at her encouragingly.
Vlad poured her another glass of champagne. She held it, but didn’t drink.
"Why are you here, Tara?"
The words were cordial, but Tara heard the menace behind them. She looked at Scotty. Then thought of Phillip, and made a decision. Rising, she removed her black denim jacket, revealing her weapons. Slowly, she removed them and set them on the table in front of Vlad. She sat down again. Vlad took a few moments to examine them. "Impressive."
Tara downed the second glass of champagne. " I am not here to pursue a vendetta against you." Vlad looked at her, eyebrow raised skeptically.
"Don’t get me wrong," Tara continued. "I blame you for Phillip. But we both know he wouldn’t have wanted me to come after you." The next words she spoke were perhaps the most difficult of her life. "He—would not have wanted me to kill you." A single tear escaped her eye. She looked into Vlad’s eyes. "I swear on my love for him that I will not act against you out of revenge for Phillip."
If Vlad was surprised at her words, he didn’t show it. Instead he said, wryly, "Ah, but you might act against me for other reasons, I take it."
"I’ve got a job to do. And my gut tells me it’s connected to those idiots your man and I encountered last night. Don’t get in my way and I won’t get in yours." She rose from the table and turned to leave. Suddenly, Vlad was in front of her. She stepped back, alarmed in spite of herself. Vlad took her chin in his hands and turned her face up to him.
"You are an extraordinary woman, Tara," he murmured. "Very well. I’ve heard you out, now you will listen to me. I am not happy with renegades of the kind you encountered last night. If you think you can take care of your—problem without exposing me and mine then I wish you good hunting." His eyes glinted. "If, however, I feel that you are even close to exposing us to danger, I WILL act. And there will be no one to help you."
Tara wrenched away from him, defiant anger blazing from her eyes. "You arrogant bastard," she hissed. "Is this how you got Phillip killed? With your overblown ego?" Vlad’s mouth tightened.
"Uh, boss," Scotty interjected, before Tara succeeded in provoking a show of temper, "Maybe this is a situation where we can work together."
Tara laughed humorlessly. "I don’t think so."
"Actually," Vlad said, eyes amused, " I think Scotty and you would make an excellent team. Why don’t the two of you stay here so you can brief him on your 'mission'? This meeting is now adjourned." To Tara’s mortal eye, it looked as though Vlad had simply disappeared. She knew that he had simply moved at supernatural speed.
Scotty looked like he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or alarmed at the prospect of working with Tara. She decided to let him stew in it, and then some. She poured herself more champagne and picked up an oyster. Eyes on Scotty, she slowly slipped the oyster from its shell and into her mouth, swallowing it seductively. He opened, then closed his mouth. Tara picked up another one. "I’m just starving," she said softly. "And you know what they say about oysters."
Half an hour later, she had finished the oysters. Scotty had been content to sit across from her, watching her eat and drink. He was glad he’d fed earlier that evening, or he might not have been able to control himself. He wanted her so bad it hurt. And she knew it.
"Hmmm." Tara said, finishing her glass of champagne. There was still half a bottle. "Seems such a waste to leave it."
Scotty took one of her hands in his and ran his thumb over her wrist, sending a line of fire up her arm. "We’ll take some with us." The feel of his thumb on her wrist was making it difficult for her to breathe.
"I guess we COULD go somewhere—private—for our briefing," she said, as if considering a matter of global import.
Scotty’s eyes smoldered. Taking her by the hand, he led her upstairs to a private lounge, furnished with several couches.
"This’ll do," he whispered hoarsely as he crushed his mouth against hers, lifting her in his strong arms. Lips locked on hers, he laid her on one of the couches. He lifted his head and gazed deeply into her eyes. He saw the desire there. But there was more. Sadness, and loneliness, and a naked longing for love that took his breath away.
He kissed her again, this time gently but deep, so deep. Unbuttoning her shirt and then her bra, he took one nipple in each of his hands. She moaned as he kneaded her breasts. Then his mouth moved to her neck and she stiffened. He stopped immediately. Again their eyes met. "Nothing you don’t want, remember? I promise." he said softly. Then, slowly, his lips brushed her neck again. His tongue pressed against her throat and she arched against him. He parted her legs with his knee.
Tara reached for his pants and unbuttoned them. His cock was already hard. She traced a finger along its length and then made another decision. "I want to taste you," she whispered.
He paused, surprised, then turned on his side and raised himself so her mouth was at his waist. She lowered her head and her tongue lightly traced the tip. A shiver went through him. Then she took him in her mouth, moving slowly up and down him.
"Tara," Scotty groaned, twining his hands in her hair. He was close, very close. He put his hands on her the sides of her face and held her as he withdrew slowly. Then his hands traveled down her, reaching under her skirt to remove her panties. He rolled over onto his back and pulled her on top of him.
She raised herself above him and slowly lowered herself onto him. He rolled again so that he was on top of her, thrusting against her in a gentle, but deepening rhythm. Her orgasm was not as intense as what had happened the first time they were together, but it was, so—satisfying. Almost on the heels of her climax he reached his own, melding himself to her as he came.
"Can I ask a question?" She was lying with her head on his shoulder. He had poured her another glass of champagne and she was sipping it slowly.
"Sure thing luv."
"When you have sex, do you usually . . . you know, um . . . "
"You mean, feed?"
Tara nodded, looking up at him.
"Almost always."
"Is it hard for you not to?"
Scotty knew where she was going with this and he hugged her closely. "I made you a promise."
"Yes, but that wasn’t my question."
He kissed the top of her head. Several moments passed before he answered her. "Yes," he said finally. "Usually, it’s damn hard."
She closed her eyes against sudden tears and turned away from him. Gently, so gently, he turned her back.
"Look at me." She raised her head and their eyes met. He kissed her lips gently, then enveloped her in his arms. "Tara, it’s great with you, beautiful. I swear. I’ll never try and push you—"
"Thank you," she whispered, nuzzling against him. But she wondered how long she would want to say no.
After a time, she sighed, disentangling herself from him and standing up. "Time for business." She went to her jacket pocket and removed a CD. " This is a summary of my work on this. I’m going to do some legwork today. We’ll meet at my hotel at 7:00." She started to dress.
"Where are you going?" Scotty protested.
"To bed. I need some sleep." She saw the hurt in his eyes and went to him. She hugged him hard and kissed him. "I’ll see you tonight."
Standing outside the restaurant, she took several deep breaths, and hailed a cab to take her back to the hotel.
She needed to find out what had happened to Granger. And soon. Or she’d never leave New Zealand. Alive, that is.
Tara slept until late afternoon and had a meal sent to her room. She wasn’t really hungry but knew that strength would be needed—and not just to accomplish her mission. Scotty had gotten to her. She was dangerously close to losing her heart. Again. To the wrong man. Again. "No," she whispered to herself, trying to stop her thoughts. But it was too late. The memory of Phillip rose like a tidal wave, engulfing her.
Nine months ago. Just nine months. He had been an adjunct professor. At least that had been his cover, as she later discovered. It had been love at first sight. She had been reviewing her next lecture when he sat down at her table. His eyes. Tara’s throat constricted at the memory of those vivid green eyes. She had lost herself in them, in him. It was not the kind of thing she ever did. In her careful, planned existence, she had left no room for the spontaneous combustion that had been her love for Phillip. For five delirious months, she had known bliss. Oh, he had to travel, but then she had her own "extra curricular" activities so it was perfect. She had not been particularly sexually experienced, but he was gentle and he taught her. Their lovemaking had been a pure blending, not just of flesh, but of mind and soul.
Then had come the terse telephone message. Saying good-bye. That was it. Just good-bye. For three miserable weeks, Tara had stumbled through her life vainly trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. Then her work had led her to cross paths with a vampire known only as Mr. D. She had thrown herself into the assignment to bury her heartache. Her intel had told her that he was in fact the original Vlad. He was not the actual target. This time. It was a group of fiends using their powers to engage in high tech theft. They had been fronted by a company calling itself LaMonde.
Apparently, her bosses were not these vampires’ only enemies. Vlad, it seemed, was none too happy with them either.
In New Zealand, alone in her hotel, Tara squeezed her eyes as her memory played itself back. It had been a well-planned operation. And it would have gone off without a hitch, but for the involvement of a third party. Just as she had been springing the trap set for the thieves, two other individuals arrived on the scene, a woman and a man. The woman reminded her of the original Morticia Addams only she was small and far more beautiful. But the woman had not been of any consequence, because the man accompanying her was Phillip. Tara had started to blow her cover to call to him, when it had happened. The other vampires had attacked. And that was when Tara realized what Phillip had become. His fangs extended and he met the attackers ferociously. Unfortunately, he and his companion were badly outnumbered and would have been overwhelmed, but for the arrival of another. And against him, there had been no chance for the thieves. He had dispatched them with a cold efficiency that still chilled her. But it was too late. Phillip had been nearly decapitated. The other male, who she later found out was Vlad, had knelt at his side.
Tara still saw what happened next in slow motion, as if she were someone else watching from the outside. She saw herself stand up, and run to the fallen body. Heard her comrades open fire to cover her approach. Vlad had still been kneeling over the body when she got there. She had knelt. Phillip’s beautiful green eyes regained a measure of clarity as they gazed at her.
"Tara," he had whispered, his love for her clearly etched on his face. She saw herself turning to the other vampire, a question, a question born of love and desperation, in her eyes. Saw him shaking his head imperceptibly, anguish in his eyes. "It’s too late."
She saw herself turning back to the only man she had ever let into her heart, lowering her mouth to his bloody mouth, for a final kiss before the end. "Goodbye, my love," she heard herself saying through her tears as she gently grasped what was left of his neck and twisted, completing the decapitation.
She remembered hearing her comrades shouting after her, their voices dimming as she lost herself in her grief, the blood washing over her hands. She’d not seen Vlad and his companion, ‘Lucy’ she distantly remembered him calling her, leave. Didn’t remember her comrades taking her from the scene.
There was an extensive debrief of course, but her bosses were satisfied that she had taken no permanent harm and, after giving her a long rest, had put her back in the field.
She had done some personal research that WOULD have alarmed her bosses had they ever learned of it. In this way, she had discovered that Phillip had been in her line of work. How had she not known? This question would always haunt her. In this way she learned that Phillip had been made what he was by Vlad, though she never had learned the specifics of how or why.
"Why Phillip," she asked softly, standing up in her Auckland hotel room, abandoning her mostly uneaten meal. "Why?" she whispered again as the sun set.
The clock struck six. An hour to go before she met Scotty, for what she hoped would be the last time.
An hour later, Tara was showered, dressed and armed. Precisely at 7:00 p.m., a knock sounded on her hotel door. She knew it was Scotty. She could feel it. ‘The job,’ Tara told herself as she opened the door. Scotty, dressed in black jeans, t-shirt, boots, and leather jacket, entered wordlessly. Tara curbed the wave of desire that his mere presence elicited.
"Take a look at this," Tara said gruffly, seating herself at the laptop, where she’d pulled up her information on transactions at the Ruby Bank following Granger’s disappearance. Scotty gave her a keen look before looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. He studied the data for several moments, then pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. Tara raised an eyebrow quizzically. Scotty handed it to her wordlessly. Tara gave a low whistle of appreciation at the information on the paper and began typing rapidly.
Her stomach clenched at what she uncovered after a few minutes. Various agents of one organization were making all the withdrawals: La Monde. She continued to work, then, "Aha. A little encryption, eh? Fine. I like a little challenge." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a miniature compact disc. Inserting it into the laptop, she began a new series of typing. "Gotcha!" she whispered triumphantly.
Another series of clicks and Tara ejected the disc and stood up. "We need to see Vlad before we proceed." Scotty hesitated, clearly reluctant.
"We don’t have time to arrange an outside meeting," Tara continued. "We have to move tonight." She placed a hand on Scotty’s arm, "Please?"
Scotty winced inwardly. He was going to catch hell for bringing a mortal to Vlad's office.
"Clearly they weren’t destroyed by the assault in the States," Tara was saying to Vlad less than half an hour later. She and Scotty had proceeded directly from the hotel to Vlad’s office. Before Vlad had even had the chance to protest, Tara had started talking. The first words out of her mouth had arrested the rebuke Vlad had been preparing to offer her for intruding.
"The bastards who killed Phillip," had been the words that froze him. "It’s the same goddamned monsters." Tara had continued, her voice flat and implacable. She had unceremoniously cleared Vlad’s desktop, set up her laptop and paced impatiently as it booted up. Pulling up the screen she wanted, she beckoned for Vlad. He leaned over, gazing intently at the screen for several minutes. His hand gripped the desk harder by the moment.
Scotty watched Mr. D’s reaction in amazement. The vampire elder actually looked like he might lose his temper. Vlad slowly loosened his grip on the desk and straightened up.
"Tara," his voice was soft, his eyes grief stricken.
"No," Tara said fiercely, before Vlad could continue. "There’s no time for melancholy. We need focus." Vlad hesitated for a long moment charged with tense emotion as he and Tara each remembered the pain caused by this organization they were now going after.
"Very well. We can talk later, AFTER we take care of this."
"Okay," Tara breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Now, here’s what I think we need to do—"
The La Monde organization’s New Zealand base of operations was located in a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Tara, insisting that the primary objective was Granger’s rescue, had recommended, and Vlad and Scotty had concurred, that they strike before midnight. Late enough for many of the fiends to be out feeding, but early enough to leave plenty of time before dawn, should something go wrong.
So, at exactly 10:29 p.m. that night, Tara, Lucy, Scotty, and Vlad crept toward the outer gate of the target warehouse. Lucy and Scotty had argued vehemently against Vlad joining the assault, but he had just as adamantly insisted on coming. All of them knew, although it remained unspoken, that Vlad’s insistence on accompanying them was probably a manifestation of the vampire’s guilt at not having initially joined the battle that had ended in Phillip’s death.
Tara was armed to the teeth. She had to hope that Granger was still alive, but she recognized that it was a slim hope. At best. She refused to think about Phillip. This job was a rescue, not a mission of vengeance.
10:33 p.m. "Now," Tara mouthed, beckoning the small band forward. She reached the outer gate and easily disarmed its alarm system. The four of them stopped just inside the gate, where Tara raised her hand in a signal to halt. Pulling a small round device from her pocket, she placed it over her eye like a monocle.
"Ground sensors," she mouthed to her companions.
‘Where does she get those wonderful toys,’ Scotty thought to himself.
The "monocle" showed Tara the location of the sensors, and thus, the path through them. Crouching low to the ground, Tara led the group across the hundred or so yards between the outer gate and the warehouse itself. Tara "felt" the assertion of Vlad’s powers enveloping her and the others in a shroud of near invisibility.
10:46 p.m. The group cleared the sensors and Tara again signaled for a halt. There was no sign that they had been detected; but that meant almost nothing. Tara stood stock still, emptying herself of all except the "special sense" that allowed her to sense the presence of vampires. She let that sense memorize and then block out the distinct "prints" of her companions.
Eight. There were eight of them. She held up that number of fingers as she came to herself.
Then she acted. In a flash she kicked in the front door, weapons ready. The first monster never even knew what hit it—Tara’s sword, drawn the instant before she entered, severed its head from its shoulders before her presence was registered. A stake flew from her left hand, imbedding itself in another fiend’s heart.
The remaining six mobilized. One raised a cell phone—clearly intending to call for reinforcements. A dagger knocked the phone from its hands before it could finish dialing. Three blurs shot past Tara, and she knew that Vlad, Scotty, and Lucy had joined the fray. Tara briefly glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the figure of a man lying in chains on a cot at the far end of the room. She could not tell if he was alive.
Two of the six remaining renegades came for her. Dropping the sword, Tara dodged a kick by one, and lunged at the other, forcing it backward.
Vlad had taken out two renegades in his initial rush and Scotty and Lucy were easily handling two others. Vlad turned toward Tara—to see a fiend raising Tara’s sword to take her from behind.
Scotty saw this in the same instant.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," two voices screamed in unison as the sword began its descent towards Tara’s neck.
And two astonished vampires gasped as they saw the transformation of the woman they both valued as she showed why she was indeed a "Special Agent."
In the instant before the sword would have struck her, Tara twisted like a snake, rolling the vampire she had tackled so that he was on top of her. The sword struck the renegade as Tara rolled out from underneath him. The sword wielder was himself decapitated where he stood by Vlad.
Tara ran to the man on the cot. It was Granger. His eyes were open but blank. Vlad was suddenly beside her. One yank by him and the chains were broken. Vlad easily lifted the unresponsive Granger in his arms.
"Get him out of here," Tara, who was setting explosive charges, yelled.
"We aren’t leaving you," Vlad protested.
"DAMN YOU," Tara screamed. Even Vlad was shocked by her emotion. "You OWE me," she continued. "Now get him the hell out of here!"
‘Stay with her,’ Vlad’s look said to Scotty, as the vampire elder departed with Lucy and Granger.
Thirty seconds later Tara murmured, "Okay, let’s GO." She and Scotty sped out of the warehouse. Tara detonated the charges as they reached the outer gates. The warehouse and all evidence of its supernatural inhabitants disappeared in a brilliant conflagration.
1:00 a.m.
"Well?" Tara was impatient. Vlad had been examining Granger for the better part of an hour. The tycoon did not appear to have been bitten, but he had not come to himself either.
"He’s in some kind of shock," Vlad said.
Tara restrained herself from a sarcastic "Duuh." "Look,"
she said instead. "My people will get him the medical attention he needs
and can also take away any unfortunate ‘memories’ he has.
"I’m afraid that won’t do, " Vlad responded, calmly, but absolutely. "We don’t know what he knows about my organization. I am in no mood for further confrontations with ‘your people’ as you call them. He stays until I have that information and have taken the steps necessary to preserve our interests."
Tara sighed. Somehow, she had known it would come to this.
Before she could argue further, Scotty intervened. "Luv, why not give it an hour or two and then we can see where we are. Come on." He held his hand out. Tara hesitated, then turned to Vlad.
Your word that you’ll do him no harm without talking to me first."
Scotty gasped. Damn, but the woman had guts!
Vlad looked at Tara solemnly. "My word." Tara nodded, then allowed Scotty to lead her from the room.
His bedroom. Tara felt desire wash over her as soon as she crossed the threshold entering his bedroom. And she intended to have her fill of it. She NEEDED it. "How about a little music," she murmured, removing her leather jacket and throwing it over a chair.
Scotty gestured to a radio and Tara selected music—some soft jazz. Scotty came up behind her and snaked his arms around her. She turned in his arms and gently pushed him away. "Not yet," she whispered, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. "Take your clothes off," Tara licked her lip. Scotty quickly raised his shirt over his head. Tara stood up and stopped his hands, lowering the shirt again. "No," she whispered, kissing the palm of his hand. "Slowly. Perform for me." Scotty actually blushed.
"I’m not much of a performer, luv," he mumbled apologetically.
"Oh, I think you’ve got it in you." Tara answered, placing her hands lightly around his waist. She began to sway her hips to the music, moving him with you. He was awkward and clearly self conscious at first but after she leaned her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him, he found himself moving to her rhythm. They danced like this for a few minutes, then Tara stepped back, indicating that Scotty should keep his hips moving with the music, and sat down again, this time on the bed.
"Now," her voice was husky. "Take your shirt off, slowly." Scotty was starting to enjoy this and he slowly lifted his shirt up over his torso, then his chest, then over his head. Tara felt herself getting wet and began to rub her legs together. Scotty took a step toward her, still swaying.
"What next, luv?"
"Your boots. One at a time." Tara gestured and Scotty walked to the bed. He raised one leg to the bed and bent, to remove a boot. The bulge in his jeans was already pronounced.
He lowered one bootless leg to the ground and then raised the other one to the bed and performed the same operation. Then, standing in front of her again, swaying his hips to the music, he unbuttoned his jeans and slowly, so slowly unzipped them. He moved closer then. Taking one of her hands in each of his, he raised them to his waist, and with her hands, slowly slid the pants from his body. He wore nothing underneath and his cock sprang free. Tara looked up into his eyes, her own eyes smoldering with desire.
"Lie back," Scotty’s voice was husky with need. Tara complied and slowly he leaned over her and lowered his mouth to hers. Lightning went through her as their tongues intertwined. He held both her hands over her head with one of his hands as the other removed her pants. She spread her legs, needing him inside her. His mouth on hers, Scotty’s hand began to massage her bud gently. She arched against him in climax. His mouth did not release hers. She needed more, so much more. This first orgasm had only barely taken the edge off her hunger. Scotty’s mouth finally released hers and moved to her neck.
"Scotty," Tara gasped. "I need you in me. Please."
"All in good time, luv," Scotty murmured against the hollow of her throat. He reached behind him into a drawer and withdrew a long length of red silk. Scotty kissed Tara’s mouth again then looked deep into her eyes. "Trust me?" Tara nodded mutely. He used the silk to tie her hands together and to the headboard of the bed. Tara had never let a man do this, had never even imagined that she could allow this.
Scotty unbuttoned Tara’s blouse and undid her bra. Then he kissed each breast gently. "Please." Tara whispered again. She ached for need of him. Scotty massaged her breasts gently as he straddled her and poised himself above her. She arched up, as he plunged inside her. For a moment, he held himself deeply imbedded in her. She arched again and he began to ride her.
Tara strained at the silken restraints but they held. "Harder. Please, harder." She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him hard against her.
Scotty grunted as his passion built. Tara felt another orgasm building inside her as Scotty ground himself into her. She screamed his name as she came. She almost passed out from the intensity of it.
Scotty thrust harder and faster and then bucked hard against her as he came inside her.
He lay on top of her, spent for the moment.
Tara reveled in the feel of his only half deflated cock still inside of her.
Scotty raised one hand to stroke Tara’s cheek while untying her with the other. "That was just the beginning," Scotty smiled into her passion-drugged eyes.
Then his phone rang. "Damn." He picked it up and listened for a moment. "It’s Mr. D, he wants a word," Scotty put the phone on speaker.
Vlad’s voice conveyed no surprise that Tara was in Scotty’s room. Tara wasn’t sure how she felt about that. "I think we can release Mr. Granger to you, but I want to give it another day."
"That will work," Tara responded, amazed at the relief she felt.
"Good. And Tara, I’d like to talk to you. Perhaps in another hour or two?"
"Fine," she answered and Vlad cut the connection.
Scotty’s arms snaked around her, "An hour or two, what SHALL we do with all that free time."
Tara turned in his arms and raised her lips for his kiss.
4:30 a.m. Still a couple of hours before dawn. Tara raised her hand to knock on the closed door of Vlad’s office. It opened silently. Tara smiled despite herself at Vlad’s flare for the dramatic. He was seated at his desk, his hand atop a thickish folder.
"Good evening Tara," he gestured her to a seat in front of the desk. "Would you care for a drink?" Tara shook her head and sat down. Vlad pushed the folder toward her and rose. He poured a large dose of cognac in a snifter and set it beside her.
"You may want it," he said softly, and left the room closing the door behind him. Tara looked at the folder for a long time before flipping it open. She wasn’t that surprised to find that she was featured prominently in the file. Most of the information was known to her though she was alarmed at Vlad’s knowledge of the people she worked for. The one thing she learned she hadn’t known before was how Phillip had come to be associated with Vlad.
It had happened in the two weeks preceding the goodbye message from Phillip that had shattered Tara’s heart. He had been on assignment and his target had been Vlad and his then States side based coven. Phillip had discovered dealings between his employers and some of the monsters (not Vlad) they purported to hunt. Basically, some were paying the agency to leave them alone. Phillip’s discovery had been accidental but he knew it meant his death if his superiors found out about it. So, he covered his tracks. But Phillip, excellent field operative that he was, was no match for the agency and he’d been discovered. So, they had set him up. The mission against Vlad’s headquarters had been a set up. His back up team had been ordered to hang back and snipers had taken out Phillip.
Only they hadn’t. Vlad had found him, lying in pool of his blood, mortally wounded. And those green eyes, the ones that Tara had fallen into, had enthralled the vampire as well. Vlad had whispered in Phillip’s ear and Phillip had consented. He had consented to the ritual that would forever sever his link to the world he had known and turn him into a creature of the night. It had been a short new life, only weeks before Tara herself finished the job her superiors had started. She closed the file and stood up.
For several minutes, she paced back and forth, trying to process what she had just learned. Walking to the desk, Tara lifted the snifter and downed its contents in one gulp, ignoring the burning in her throat and stomach.
She continued to pace. Knowing Vlad as she now did, she understood how utterly unusual Vlad’s decision to turn Phillip must have been. The spontaneity, indeed, the recklessness of the act mirrored the abandon with which she herself had fallen in love with the man. Phillip did that to people.
"Yes he did," Vlad’s voice came from behind her. Tara spun, facing Vlad.
"All this time," Tara whispered. "All this time I blamed you and your kind for his death and it was me."
"No," Vlad started.
"It was ME. Me and MY kind." Tears of grief rolled down Tara’s cheeks. "HIS kind. HIS OWN PEOPLE," she screamed. "THEY’RE the monsters. Not you. Not you." Tara felt strong arms around her and realized that Scotty had entered the room and it was he who now held her tightly.
Vlad stood rigidly, hands clenched at his sides. "Tara, listen to me. It was not your fault. You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. I shouldn’t have sent Phillip out without more back up. It was foolish and he died because of it."
Tara continued to cry. Scotty and Vlad exchanged a look and Vlad silently left the office. Not until he was outside, in the hall, did he whisper, "I’m sorry Tara."
Scotty lifted Tara in his arms and carried her back to his room. It would be dawn soon. He set her gently on the bed and lay down next to her, covering them both. Her sobbing had subsided only slightly and she clung to him. His arms gently cradled her until finally, she slept.
When Scotty woke the next evening, she was gone. A single white rose lay on her pillow along with an envelope. Scotty opened the envelope, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy with its contents.
"Scotty, I thought I’d let you sleep after you took such good care of me last night. Please don’t think I’m a coward for doing it like this but I couldn’t handle a face-to-face farewell. I’ve got a job to finish. When it’s done, I have some things to work out and for that, I need to be alone. I won’t say goodbye to you. It’s meant too much. Tara."
Scotty read the note several times then lay back. Eventually, he got up and dressed. Another night had come to Auckland and Mr. D would have work for him to do. Thoughts of Tara Scotty put away for safe keeping, as he had stored the rose and her parting note.
THE END (?)