Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story Chapter 1

This is a work of fiction.Names, characters, places, and incidents both are productsof the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Anyresemblance to actual events or locales or persons, livingor dead, is entirely coincidental.Ack forthwithledgementsThe author gratefully acknowledges those people who helped in the research and writing of bloodsucking FiendsMark Joseph and Mark Anderson for help with research in the Bay Area. Rachelle Stambal, Jean Brody, Liz Ziemska, and Dee Dee Leichtfuss for their careful reads and thoughtful suggestions. My editors, Michael Korda and hurtle Adams, for their clean hands and composure. And my agent, Nick Ellison, for his patience, guidance, friendship, and hard work.In memory of my fatherJack Davis MoorePart IFledglingChapter 1DeathSundown painted purple across the great Pyramid age the Emperor enjoyed a steaming whiz against a dumpster in the alley below. A low shock worked its way up from the bay, snaked around columns and over concrete lions to wash against the towers where the Wests money was moved. The financial district an hr ago it ran with rivers of men in gray wool and women in heels now the streets, built on change posture ships and g experient-rush garbage, were deserted quiet except for a foghorn that lowed across the bay like a solitary cow.The Emperor shook his scepter to clear the last few drops, shivered, then zipped up and turned to the violet hounds who waited at his heels. The foghorn sounds especially sad this evening, dont you think of?The smaller of the dogs, a Boston terrier, dipped his guide word and licked his chops.Bummer, you are so simple. My city is decaying before your eyes. The distribute is thick with poison, the children are shooting distributively other in the street, and now this plague, this horrible plague is killing my people by the thousands, and all you think about is food.The Emperor nodded to the larger dog, a golden retriever. Lazarus knows the weight of our resp onsibility. Does one have to die to puzzle dignity? I wonder.Lazarus lowered his ears and growled. Have I offended you, my friend?Bummer began growling and acanthaing away(predicate) from the dumpster. The Emperor turned to see the lid of the dumpster being slowly lifted by a ghastly hand. Bummer barked a warning. A figure stood up in the dumpster, his hair dark and wild and speckled with trash, contend clean-living as bone. He vaulted out of the dumpster and hissed at the little dog, showing long white fangs. Bummer yelped and cowered behind the Emperors leg.That will be quite enough of that, the Emperor commanded, puffing himself up and tucking his thumbs under the lapels of his indistinct overcoat.The vampire brushed a bit of rotted lettuce from his black shirt and grinned. Ill let you live, he said, his phonate like a file on ancient rusted metal. Thats your punishment.The Emperors eyes went wide with terror, but he held his ground. The vampire laughed, then turned and w alked away.The Emperor felt a chill run up his discern as the vampire disappeared into the fog. He hung his channelize and thought, Not this. My city is dying of poison and plague and now this this creature stalks the streets. The responsibility is suffocating. Emperor or not, I am only a man. I am weak as water an entire empire to save and right now I would mete out my soul for a bucket of the Colonels crispy-fried chicken. Ah, but I must be strong for the troops. It could be worse, I suppose. I could be the Emperor of Oakland.Chins up, boys, the Emperor said to his hounds. If we are to battle this monster, we will need our strength. in that respect is a bakery in North Beach that will presently be dumping the day-old. Lets be off. He shuffled away thinking, Nero fiddled while his empire went to ashes I shall eat leathery pastries.As the Emperor trudged up California Street, trying to balance the impotence of power with the promise of a powdered-sugar doughnut, Jody was l eaving the Pyramid. She was twenty-six and attractive in a way that made men want to tuck her into flannel sheets and kiss her on the forehead before leaving the room cute but not beautiful.As she passed under the Pyramids con gradientrable concrete buttresses she caught herself limping from a panty-hose injury. It didnt hurt, exactly, the run that striped the back of her leg from heel to knee, the result of a surly metal file drawer (Claims, X-Y-Z) that had leaped out and snagged her ankle but she was limping nonetheless, from the psychological damage. She thought, My wardrobe is starting to look like an ostrich hatchery. Ive either got to start throwing out Leggs eggs or vanquish a tan on my legs and quit wearing nylons.Shed never had a tan, couldnt beguile one, really. She was a milk-white, distrustful redhead who burned and freckled with sun.When she was half a block from her bus stop, the wind-driven fog won and Jody experienced total hair-spray failure. Neat waist-length waves frizzed to a wild red cape of curl and tangle. Great, she thought, once again Ill get home looking like Death eating a cracker. Kurt will be so pleased.She pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders against the chill, tucked her briefcase under her breasts like a schoolgirl carrying books, and limped on. Ahead of her on the sidewalk she maxim someone standing by the glass door of a brokerage office. Green light from the CRTs within silhouetted him in the fog. She thought about crossing the street to avoid him, but shed have to cross back again in a few feet to catch her bus.She thought, Im done working late. Its not worth it. No eye contact, thats the plan.As she passed the man, she looked down at her running shoes (her heels were in her briefcase). Thats it. Just a braces more stepsA hand caught in her hair and jerked her off her feet, her briefcase went skittering across the sidewalk and she started to scream. some other hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragg ed off the street into an alley. She kicked and flailed, but he was too strong, immovable. The smell of foul meat filled her nostrils and she gagged even while trying to scream. Her attacker spun her around and yanked on her hair, pulling her head back until she thought her neck would snap. Then she felt a sharp pain on the side of her throat and the strength to fight seemed to evaporate.Across the alley she could see a soda can and an old Wall Street Journal, a wad of bubble gum stuck to the bricks, a No Parking mansion details, strangely slowed down and significant. Her vision began to tunnel dark, like an iris closing, and she thought, These will be the last things I see. The voice in her head was calm, resolved.As everything went dark, her attacker slapped her across the face and she opened her eyes and axiom the thin white face before her. He was speaking to her. Drink, he said.Something stiff and wet was shoved into her mouth. She tasted w limb iron and salt and gagged aga in. Its his arm. Hes shoved his arm in my mouth and my teeth have broken. Im tasting blood. DrinkA hand clamped over her nose. She struggled, tried to breathe, tried to pull his arm out of her mouth to get air, sucked for air and nearly choked on blood. Suddenly she found herself sucking, drinking hungrily. When he tried to pull his arm away she clutched at it. He tore it from her mouth, twisted her around and bit her throat again. After a moment, she felt herself fall. The attacker was tearing at her clothes, but she had nothing left to fight with. She felt a roughness against the skin of her breasts and belly, then he was off her.Youll need that, he said, and his voice echoed in her head as if he had shouted down a canyon. Now you can die.Jody felt a remote control sense of gratitude. With his permission, she gave up. Her heart slowed, lugged, and stopped.