Vampire Hunter D (10 page)

“Sisters, you can’t have him first,” the third head—the one on the left—declared. “Just five days ago, the two of you fed on the huntsman who wandered in here while I was asleep. This time I shall be first. First to take him to the heights of rapture, and first to taste his blood when he hits that peak.”

“The nerve of you! We are your elders,” the head on the right—and apparently the second-in-command—bellowed.

“Stop your sibling quarrels,” the middle head scolded them, turning to the head on the left. “You may be the first to drink of his blood. However, the three of us shall pleasure him together.”

“Yes.”

“I’m amenable to that.”

Without another word the three heads nodded in agreement. Little flame tongues flicking in and out and the women fondled every inch of D with smitten eyes.

“But be on guard,” the oldest sister said quite plainly. “This man does not fear us.”

“Rubbish! Could anyone know what we are and not tremble? When we grew angry at our meager repasts and bared our fangs, did not the Count himself beat a hasty retreat, never to return to our realm again?” asked the second sister.

“Even supposing that he is not afraid, what could he do? Manling, can you move?”

D remained silent. In truth, he couldn’t move. From the first moment he laid eyes on the women’s heads, his whole body had been gripped by countless hands.

“Do you comprehend, manling,” the second sister went on. “That’s our hair at work.”

Exactly. The reason why the necks and torso of the Midwich Medusas melded with the darkness was because everything below their jaws was hidden by black hair that fell in a cascade of tens of thousands of strands, shrouding the rest completely. However, this was no ordinary hair. Once on the water’s surface, the strands spread out like tentacles, drifted about, and when they felt the movement of something in the lair, in accordance with the will of the three sisters, they would lure the prey into the center. Then, when the appropriate time came, they could wrap around the victim’s limbs in a split second and rob the victim of his freedom with the strength of piano wire.

And that wasn’t all. The truth was, it wasn’t water that was in the three sisters’ stone-bordered den. The eldritch stones diverted the aqueduct and sent the water flowing around either side, while their lair was actually filled with a secretion from the hair itself. The liquid flowed subtly to complement the gently swaying movements of the hair, swirling it around, and even D—with a sense of touch far more sensitive than that of humans—hadn’t been alerted to the presence of the strands. Unbeknownst to D, the hair had crept up from his waist and wrapped itself around his wrists and upper arms, as well as his shoulders and neck, completely restraining his limbs.

Even more disturbing, the rest of those countless hands—nay, tentacles—had started slipping in through the cuffs and seams of his clothes, creeping across him, rubbing against his naked flesh, teasing him, plotting to make D a slave of inflamed desire. No matter how resolute their will, a person’s reason would dissolve after a few seconds of these delicate movements, reducing them to lust-driven mindlessness—this was the Midwich Medusas’ obscene torture, and no one could resist it.

“Well, have you come to crave us?” the oldest sister asked. “Ordinarily, we would take your life at this point. Like so.” With her words as their signal, the three heads twisted through the air to part their locks. The black cataract changed its course, and three lengthy necks striped with black and blue, as well as the massive torso that supported them, came into view. The torso was so thick, two grown men would have trouble reaching around it. The long necks swooped down at D, wrapping around and around the powerfully built man held captive by the bonds of their black hair. For its part, the hair continued its tiny wriggling movements below D’s clothes.

“We can break your bones whenever it suits us,” the oldest sister said, her red eyes ablaze as she stared at D’s face. The fire in her eyes was an inferno of lust. “But you’re such a gorgeous man. Such a well-proportioned man.” Her tongue licked D’s cheek.

“Verily. Lo these past three centuries we’ve not seen one so beautiful.” The moist lips of the second sister toyed with D’s earlobe from behind. Her hot, rank breath blew into his ear.

“But we won’t kill you. The three of us will see to it you taste more than your share of unearthly rapture, and then drain you to the marrow.” The youngest sister fairly moaned the words.

The source of the Midwich Medusas’ life was not only the energy they derived from the consumption of living organisms. With bizarre abilities only demons possessed, they reduced strapping men and lovely women in the bloom of youth to wanton creatures aching with desire, then imbibed the aura of pure rapture the victims’ radiated at their peak—this was the secret of the three sisters’ immortality, and this was how they had lived on since before the vampires, since the ancient times when humans ruled.

Of course, that wasn’t to say they would feed on just anyone. The sisters were gourmands in their own way. Though the Count had sent hundreds of people into the subterranean world, and still others had wandered in from various entrances, the sisters hadn’t tasted pleasure like this for centuries, and had devoured their victims’ flesh greedily but joylessly year after year. Now the time had come for pleasure to burn through their shared body once again. A heady blush tinged the three beautiful faces, their eyes danced with flames, and the hot breath spilling from their vermilion lips threatened to melt D’s frostily gorgeous visage.

“Well now,” the oldest sister fairly moaned. Three sets of damp, bewitching lips closed in on the firm iron gate that was D’s mouth.

The instant their lips met his, the sisters saw it. They saw the crimson blood-light glinting from D’s eyes. It dealt a mysterious blow to their wicked minds. In that instant, the three sisters felt a sweet thrill racing through their body, the likes of which they’d never experienced before.

“Oh, those lips,” the oldest sister said in a husky voice.

“Show me your throats,” a low, rusty voice commanded.

Without time to comprehend it was D’s voice they heard, the sisters raised their necks as one and brought the slick white base of their throats to D’s lips. Something told them there was no other way to snuff the feverish excitement gnawing its way through their bodies. The Midwich Medusas’ wits were no longer functioning properly.

“Undo your hair.”

D’s limbs were immediately set free. His right hand returned his sword to its sheath while his left scooped up a fistful of hair.

“A trap baited with pleasure—but who caught whom?” Before his muttered words had faded, D dropped the strands he held and pulled the three lengthy necks to himself with both arms. “I don’t like doing this, but it’s the only way to find a way out of here. Someone’s waiting for me.” As he spoke, his eyebrows suddenly rose and his eyes rolled back. His lips spread wide, exposing a pair of fangs. Brutal and evil, his visage was that of a vampire.

There in the darkness, what happened in the moments that followed?

The cries of the women melded with the repeated splash of their tail beating the water’s surface, suggesting unearthly delights had just taken mastery of them. It was the sisters who had blundered into the pleasure-baited trap. Before long, there was the sound of something heavy dropping into the water three times in succession, and then D quickly gave the command: “Arise.”

Twisting their torso and serpentine necks, the three sisters rose again. A hollow shadow clung to their countenances, and their bloodshot eyes were as damp as the mist, as desire choked the vitality from them. And it was truly eerie how their glistening, greasy faces were completely bloodless, with a luster like paraffin. At the base of each of the three necks a pair of deep red dots could be seen. Fang marks.

Who could have known the demonic blood slumbering within D would awaken at the last possible second? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Now, as his gorgeous countenance returned to the cool mountain spring it always was, he commanded the three sisters to lead him to an exit in a voice that resembled a moan of pain.

The three heads bobbed wordlessly in midair, then moved off into the darkness. As D followed them and vanished into the darkness also, a taunting voice could be heard from around his waist. “No matter how you hate it, you can’t fight your blood. That’s your destiny—and you know it deep in your bones.”

In a split second came the response. “Silence! I don’t remember telling you to come out! Get back in there!”

The angry shouts clearly belonged to D. So, who had been speaking before ? What could D have meant by those strange expressions? And most of all, why had his ice-cold exterior shattered, even if only for a moment?

.

While the edge of the plains swallowed the last bit of afterglow from the sunset, and Doris continued waiting for D, Dr. Ferringo’s buggy pulled up to her house. Doris was somewhat embarrassed, and tried to get the doctor to leave. Doctors were far too precious on the Frontier for her to put one in such danger. After all, this fight was hers and hers alone. She’d mixed a sedative in with Dan’s dinner and he was already fast asleep. That was probably the best thing to do with him, since a Noble stalking their prey wouldn’t even spare a glance at anyone who wasn’t in their way.

“Um, Doc, I’m a little busy today with stuff here on the farm,” Doris called preemptively from the porch.

But the doctor responded, “That’s quite all right, I don’t mind. I was just out on a house call—could I trouble you for a glass of water?” Dispelling her objections with a wave of his hands, he went ahead and opened the door, trotted into the living room, and installed himself on the sofa.

He’d been a friend of her late father, he’d brought Doris and Dan into the world with his own two hands, and since the death of their parents to this very day, he’d helped them in countless ways. Because of this, Doris couldn’t very well toss him out on his ear. To make matters worse, for some reason he began to recount his youthful adventures battling supernatural creatures—or “the damned things,” as he liked to call them—and Doris had no recourse but to sit and listen attentively. He must’ve been aware the Noble would most likely be coming for her, so she had to wonder why he seemed so dead set on hanging around.

Night rolled closer with each passing minute, and D wasn’t back yet. The moment the sun set, Doris resolved to fight alone. All the armaments and traps spread across the farm had been double-checked, but she only grew more afraid. And now she had not only herself but the physician to worry about as well.

No matter what happens to me, I’ve got to protect Doc at all costs. Please, don’t let him strike till after Doc has gone.
As she made this wish, another concern annoyingly crept up on her.

No matter what happens, I can’t let myself think about that. If he makes me one of them, what’ll happen to Dan? He can’t live the rest of his life knowing his only blood relative is one of the Nobility—that’s just too big a burden to carry. Nothing doing, Doris. Get your arms and legs ripped off trying if you have to, but fight that bastard off.
The bravery she mustered only lasted a heartbeat before sinking into the shadow of her fears. Coupled with centuries of psychological conditioning, the horror of actually falling victim to the pernicious fangs of the Nobility had more than enough dark power to daunt a young girl of seventeen, no matter how distinguished a fighter she may have been.

When the hands on the clock indicated nine thirty Night, Doris finally came out with it. “Well, Doc, I think I’m gonna turn in now.”
So please hurry up and go home
—this much Doris implied, but Dr. Ferringo showed no signs of rising. Instead, he said something that shocked her senseless.

“You’ll have a dangerous customer paying you a call real soon.”

“That’s right, Doc, so you’d best be on your way—”

“My, but you are a sweetie,” the elderly physician said, showering her with a gaze of boundless affection. “But there’s a time and a place for restraint. You don’t have to be that way with me. Seventeen years ago, I brought you into this world with my own two hands, and you’ve always been like a daughter to me, haven’t you? Now this old fool ain’t the sort to just stand by while a young lady does battle with a demon straight from hell.” As Doris stood at the door to the living room watching the old man, her eyes glistened softly with tears. “Don’t look so down in the mouth,” the old man said jovially. “I may not look it, but it was yours truly that taught your father the tricks of the Werewolf Hunting trade.”

“I know that. It’s just—”

“If you know it, then why don’t you stop your blubbering? Of course, it is interesting to see a little spitfire like you squirt a few tears from time to time. Anyway, where’s that young fellow? You hired him for protection, but when night started coming on, he probably took to his heels, I suppose. He was a spooky character, that one, but he turned out to be a worthless drifter, did he?”

“No, he didn’t!” Up to that point Doris stood silently, touched by his words and nodding in agreement, but this sudden about-face, and her exclamation, made the elderly physician jump in his seat. “That’s not the sort of man … uh, I mean, he’s not the kind to do that. No, sir. The reason he’s not here tonight is because he went into the Count’s castle alone. And he hasn’t come back yet. I just ... Something’s happened to him, I just know it ...”

An ineffable light sparked in Dr. Ferringo’s eyes. “So you were kind of ... Now I see ... I didn’t know you felt that way about him.”

Doris regained her composure and hastily wiped at her tears. “What do you mean by that? It’s not like I ... I mean ...”

The physician grinned at the young girl as a rosy blush suffused her face. Then he made a gentle wave of his hands. “Okay, okay. My mistake. If you think that much of him, then we needn’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Until he does, what do you say to working up the nerve to capture the Count?”

“Sure,” Doris said with a cheery nod, then suddenly, with great apprehension, she asked, “How are we gonna do that?”