Free Blood Hunt by Lee Killough Page A

himself preternaturally conscious of the near empty street. Here on the back side of the block, they seemed a hundred miles from the crowds and lights.
    He asked, “Did you ever meet a man named Cleveland Adair?”
    Her stride never faltered. “Who?”
    “ Cleveland Adair, an Atlanta businessman. We found him dead two years ago with a bruise and punctures just like Mossman’s. A woman matching your description was seen in the lobby of his hotel shortly before his estimated time of death.”
    He expected denial, either vehement or indignant. He was even prepared for her to try running away. Instead, she stopped and turned to look him directly in the eyes. “How many deaths are you investigating?”
    Her eyes looked bottomless and glowed like a cat’s. Garreth stared into them, fascinated. “Two. After all, it looks like the same person killed them both.”
    “ I suppose it does. Inspector,” she said quietly, “please back up into this alley.”
    Like hell I will, he thought, but found he could not say it aloud. Nor could he act on the thought. Her eyes held his and his will seemed paralyzed. Step by step, as commanded, he moved backward, until he came up short against a wall.
    “ You’re here alone.” Her hands came up to his neck, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Her hands felt cool against his skin. “Have you told anyone where you are or about my little love bites?”
    Yes, he thought, but he spoke the truth. “No.” Should he have admitted that? He could not find concern in him; all he cared about at the moment was staring into the glowing depths of her eyes and listening to her voice.
    “ Good boy,” she crooned, and kissed him gently on the mouth. She had to bend down to do it. “That’s a very good boy.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think you should ever tell.”
    He barely heard her. Her voice reached him from a great distance, like all sensation at the moment: the rough brick of the wall at his back, the chill of the evening, the increasing rate of her breathing. Somewhere deep inside, uneasiness stirred, but listening to it seemed too much trouble. He found it easier to just stand passive and let her tip his head back against the wall.
    Her lips felt cool on his mouth and cheek, and her fingers on his neck as she probed to one side of his windpipe. His pulse throbbed against the pressure.
    “ That’s a nice vein,” she whispered in approval. Her breath tickled as she spoke between kisses. “You’ll like this. You’ll feel no pain. You won’t mind a bit that you’re dying.” She kissed him harder and he felt the nip of her teeth. Her mouth moved down over his jaw to his neck. “You’re a bit short for me so this will be awkward unless you stand very still. Whatever happens, don’t move.”
    “ No.” It emerged in a sigh.
    “ I love you, Inspector. I love all men of power.” Her teeth nipped harder, moving toward the spot where his pulse beat against her fingers. “You don’t have money or position like the others, but you have knowledge...knowledge I can’t afford to have spread around, so that gives you more power than most of my lovers. Still, I have more. I have the power to take yours. I love doing that. I am become Death.”
    She bit harder. A distant sensation told him her teeth had broken his skin, but he felt no pain, only a slight pressure as she sucked.
    “ What — ” he began.
    Her finger brushed across his lips, commanding him to silence. He obeyed. All desire to talk had left anyway. A wave of mixed warmth and cold moved outward through his body from where her mouth touched him. He shivered in pleasure and moved just a little, straining toward her mouth. Yes. Nice. Go on. Don’t stop .
    Presently, though, he wondered if maybe she should. He felt very weak. He needed to sit down before he collapsed. His knees buckled, but her hands caught him under the arms and held him against the wall. She must be very strong, came a