Before Sunrise Ch. 05

I realized after the fact that there was no sex scene in the last chapter. I'll see what I can do about getting one in this chapter. It's been tough sledding lately trying to find time to write. I apologize for the lengthy time between chapters. Hope you all like the story so far. As always, constructive criticism is accepted and encouraged. Abuse is not. Abusive comments will be deleted without prejudice. Enjoy!

Detective Joe Abramson lay naked on the double bed in the small apartment of his lover, Denise, the night dispatcher at the precinct. Denise laid further down the bed, her lover's stiff cock slurping in and out of her wet mouth. Abramson felt no guilt about lying in another woman's bed; his wife was most assuredly being screwed hard by her Latin lover at that very moment. Don't ask, don't tell, he thought, along with the old adage about the goose and the gander. But after twenty minutes of oral ministrations, Joe was no closer to release than when Denise first started. His mind was definitely elsewhere.

"Joe?" Denise spoke after slipping his hard dick from between her red painted lips. "Do you want me to keep going? I mean..." Her jaw had become sore and tired. She would keep going for him though. Although Denise knew that Joe would never leave his wife, she still had hopes that one day the two of them could be together and not hide their relationship.

"What?" Joe replied after Denise said his name again. "I'm sorry, Dee. That whole situation from last night really has me confounded. It's not you, honey." He could barely keep his mind on anything but what had happened the night before. What did happen last night? Was it a dream? Not hardly. Where did that fog come from? It was on him in an instant. Did Delevan and the girl know he was following them? So many questions with no answers...

"Joe?" Denise spoke his name once more, her hand still wrapped around his hard-on. "Joe, are you OK?"

Abramson finally snapped out of his funk and smiled at the beautiful woman with her face less than an inch from his stiff pecker. "I'm just fine, baby," he said as he slid down the bed and rolled Denise on to her knees. Positioning himself behind her, he plunged himself deep into her slickness and began to pound her wet snatch mercilessly.

Denise moaned with pleasure. This was the Joe Abramson she knew. Yes, fifteen years her senior, but he possessed the stamina of a man half his age. And for a man pushing fifty, he was in better shape than most of the guys her age, aside from a little male pattern baldness creeping in. Denise did not know about Joe's wife and the Central American gardener, nor would she have cared had she known. She planned to claim Joe as her own someday. She didn't know if he loved her, but she knew she loved him. And she would do whatever it took to make him love her.

"Oh, God, Joe!" Denise cried as she reached between her legs and rubbed her sensitive clit as her lover continued his assault on her moistening slit. She shuddered involuntarily as her orgasm crashed through her and waves of pure bliss rippled through her body. Her inner walls clamped around her lover's hard shaft and began to milk his member of his precious seed. Joe groaned once then let loose with his torrent.

The two collapsed on Denise's bed and caught their breath. As their respective orgasm's subsided, she looked at Joe and saw that his face had gone back to his contemplative look from before. Denise didn't want to ruin their post-coital glow, but she had to know what was going through his head.

"Joe?" she cautiously spoke as she placed a hand on his sweaty chest. "Are you OK? I know you're not the most forthright person when it comes to your feelings, but you seem even more pre-occupied than usual. Is it about what happened last night?"

"I don't want to..." Joe began to protest then changed his mind. "I just don't understand what happened out there tonight. That fog could not have rolled in that quickly. It was like..."

"Like what, Joe?" Denise asked.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Joe replied hesitantly, "but it was like... it was supernatural or... magic..." He looked at her after he responded and saw a questioning look on her face. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you," Denise answered and placed her hand on his cheek for reassurance. "It just seems so... so far-fetched. No one else saw this 'fog' you reported, Joe. No one. And you know what the other guys at the precinct will say if you tell them about this."

"I know, Denise... I know..." was all Joe said. He knew what the others would say if word got out about his mysterious instant fog during his wild goose chase. Joe had no intention of telling anyone other than Denise about the previous night's pursuit.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, Denise and enjoy our time together, OK?" Joe said after a deep breath and exhale. "Ready for Round Two?" the veteran detective asked his lover with a sly grin.

"I don't know," Denise answered with a smile of her own. "Do you think you can keep up with me, old timer?" Her smile grew wider as the playful insult settled on Joe's face in surprise.

"Old Timer'?" he repeated her last words in a questioning manner. "I'll show you what us 'old timers' are all about, missy!" With that he leapt at Denise and surprised her by slamming his once-again hard cock deep into her waiting pussy. With a gasp and slight squeal, Denise vocalized her approval and dug her nails into the intrepid detective's back as the two made love until exhaustion overcame them both just before the clock struck three in the morning.

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Dana tried to feign ignorance at Solomon's revelation of her supernatural heritage, "I don't know what you mean..."

"Come now, Dana," Solomon replied as he took another step toward her. "Don't play coy with me. I know you far too well. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Although you have probably never heard the story of how your grandmother used her powers to save Ras. And to ultimately forge a sort-of peace treaty between our two communities. It is funny, really. The humans were so scared of the Bomb back then. They had no idea how close they came to true destruction by our warring clans."

"How long have you known?" Dana asked, giving up her charade of unawareness.

"I suspected the first night we met," he responded as he turned to refill his tumbler with amber alcohol. "You were able to refuse our... advances. Both Elizabeth's and mine. No one does that without having some kind of unearthly help. Some humans have that sixth sense, or whatever you would like to call it, but power like that, like yours, can only come from a few places. The place where I come from is one of them, but you certainly aren't one of us, are you?"

"How did you figure out that the old woman and I were related?" Dana questioned her one-time lover and benefactor.

"I can add, my dear," he replied. "I simply put two and two together. But she was the real telling factor."

"How is that possible?" Dana wondered aloud. "I wasn't even born when..."

"But I was there, Dana." Solomon interrupted her ponder. "And I was there when the tentative peace between our two peoples was established. A peace that has gone on for some sixty odd years. But a peace that, I'm afraid to say, is in danger of going away soon, unless you and I can figure out a way to keep it."

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May 3, 1957, 12:13am

The wooded area behind the stone castle where Solomon and Elizabeth had lived for nearly fifty years extended back farther than any human realized. The stone wall to the north was an illusion created by the night-dwelling inhabitants of the property. Solomon, carrying a medium-sized paper sack, walked through the hologram, and continued on through the unseen forest just after midnight, the pitch blackness of the night no hindrance to his wolf-like eyes.

He came to a clearing in the forest and stopped. Reaching into the bag, Solomon produced a blue cylindrical container of iodized salt. Solomon walked twelve paces from the approximate center of the open area then proceeded to walk in a circle, pouring the grainy substance as he strode, and encompassing himself inside the sodium-laced shape. With the remainder of the salt, he then drew a crude pentagram in the center of the circle. Tossing the container aside, Solomon lowly spoke ancient words in his wife's native tongue:

"V Yiyi im'ya ya klychu tebe!" (In Her name, I summon thee!) As his words resonated through the forest, the wind suddenly picked up and shook the budding branches of the trees surrounding the clearing. From the north, a slight glow began to radiate through the woods until its brightness rivaled that of the sun that Solomon had not seen in hundreds of years. Just as his night-trained eyes nearly burst from the brightness, a small hunched-over figure came into Solomon's focus through the aura and slowly made its way to the opposite side of the five-pointed star where he stood.

The figure was an old woman, clad in a yellow blouse and red skirt that traced the dirt on the ground and nearly covered her scuffed black boots. A turquoise scarf covered what wispy white hair she had left on her head and wire glasses, lenses as thick as pop bottle bottoms, sat on the bridge of her nose. A warped walking stick, crooked as a politician's spine, helped her stand and traverse the clearing. She stood studying her caller for what seemed like hours, the wind swirling around the two as if a tornado had touched down. She then spoke in the same language as she was summoned:

"Stvorinnya," (Creature), she spoke in a voice that had seemingly spoke first at the dawn of time, "Chomu ty vyklykav mene?" (Why hast thou summoned me?)

"Madame," Solomon spoke in English, quite sure the old crone could comprehend, "I need your help. One of my... lieutenants has been gravely wounded and I believe that you may be the only one that can save him."

"I am Dorothea. What you ask," the withered female replied in thickly accented English, "goes against all that both of our populations have rivaled for centuries. Why would you come to me?"

"Because, Madame," Solomon answered as he took a step forward through the swirling mass of leaves whipped about by the circling gales, "I owe him my very existence. And I would like to put an end to our mutual aggression among our peoples. Our coming together would be a first step toward peace."

"If I were to help you," Dorothea responded, "I would need something a little more... tangible."

"Tangible?" Solomon asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Reverting back to the old language, the decrepit figure smiled then clarified her query through craggy teeth:

"Shcho tse dlya mene?!" (What's in it for me?!)

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As the winds died down, the unlikely new pair walked back through the woods in silence toward the palatial home. Solomon second-guessed himself twice during the walk back to his house but in the end decided that he must go through with this, no matter what the cost. Ras had saved his life and he owed him the debt. They reached the front door and Solomon held it open for the crone, her bent makeshift cane loudly tapping the marble floor as she hobbled. Upon hearing the strange noise, Elizabeth hurried to the front room. There she saw the face of the enemy of which her people were sworn to destroy. She immediately took a defensive stand and her eyes flashed red as her fangs grew to length.

"Elizabeth! Chekay!" (Wait!) Solomon yelled as he held his hand up to stop his warring bride. The old witch, for her part, stood motionless and non-flinching, showing not a pinch of fear. Solomon hurried to his wife and held her until her fury subsided. "She's here to help Ras."

Dorothea took a step toward the couple and addressed Elizabeth, "Stoy ostoron, istota" (Stand aside, creature), she said creakily and tapped her stick on the marble once more to announce her intentions. She slowly strode past the undead couple and went to the room behind them, never asking where the afflicted one was. "Leave me until I call for you," was all she said as the door swung open then quickly closed behind her.

"Tse vasha ideya dopohomy?" (Is that your idea of help?) a stunned Elizabeth asked her husband.

"She may be the only one who can help, my dear." Solomon said as he placed his arm around her and led her to their private chambers to await the outcome.

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Solomon paced a trail through the marble floor of the parlor while the old witch locked herself in the room where Ras lay "dying." Every two minutes the clan leader would glance up at the clock on the wall. It had seemed like an interminable time since the decrepit crone had entered the makeshift sick ward of Solomon's lieutenant and the timepiece seemed to move at a snail's pace. But Solomon was also keeping an eye on the time so that he and Elizabeth could seclude themselves in darkness before the sun rose over the eastern wall of the mansion grounds. The ancient woman had moved intolerably slow getting back to the house after meeting in the clearing and had not entered Ras's room until after one am. It was now quarter to five and the sunlight would begin peeking through the cracks in the window blinds in less than ninety minutes, according to the sunrise calendar in the Farmer's Almanac for 1957.

Elizabeth sat on the antique beige Victorian loveseat and watched as her husband walked the same path over and over, waiting for any action from the adjacent room. She never knew Solomon to be this concerned over one of the clan members. It both worried her and piqued her curiosity simultaneously. In their nearly one hundred fifty years together, Elizabeth had seen her husband's concern for others begin and end with her.

But tonight was different. Elizabeth saw genuine anguish in Solomon's eyes as the minutes ticked away while the door to Ras's room remained closed for the fourth hour. She was about to speak to him when the click of the hasp sounded the old sorceress' exit. She first looked at Solomon but said nothing. Her eyes, magnified by the thick glasses, then focused on Elizabeth as she spoke in the old language.

"Ty!" (You!) Dorothea exclaimed as she pointed at the blonde female. "Ty pidesh zi mnoyu... (You will come with me...).

Elizabeth looked from the old woman to Solomon and then back to the witch. "Why you need me?" she asked, not bothering to respond in the native tongue.

"Vy dopomozhete yomu, abo vin pomre" (You will help him, or he will die), the ancient one said flatly then stared at Elizabeth until the undead woman stood from the loveseat and entered the room where Ras lay mortally wounded. Solomon moved to follow but the witch held her hand in front of her palm up to stop him.

"Vy yomu ne potribni, istota" (He does not need you, creature), she told Solomon as he halted his ingress to the room. "Nezabarom ziyde sontse. Idy I skhovaysya" (The sun will be up soon. Go and hide yourself).

"But Elizabeth needs to..." Solomon began to protest but had his thought stopped by the old woman.

"Z neyu vse bude dobre. Ydy vzhe" (She will be fine. Go now.), Dorothea interrupted then wasted no more time with the ashen-skinned male. Solomon got the message and turned to leave the large sitting room. She waited for him to turn and leave the parlor then, when she was sure he had left, the elderly coven leader went into the room to join the ailing creature and Elizabeth to finish her work and save the one who had been her enemy for hundreds of years.

Elizabeth stood at the side of the bed and looked at Ras's pitiful form. Their kind had no use for respiration, but she saw that Ras's breath was raspy and stuttered. She had never before seen this with one of her people and the pale woman felt a twinge of fear for the first time in centuries. A small voice spoke as a sliver of light came through the break when the door cracked open.

"Vin ne vyzhve bez vashoyi dopomohy" (He will not survive without your help), Dorothea said as she closed the door and walked to Elizabeth's side.

"What can I do?" Elizabeth asked in her thickly accented English. "I am not healer."

"Ty ztsilysh yoho svoyim tilom" (You will heal him with your body), The ancient one replied, her facial expression never wavering from stoic.

"Body?" Elizabeth puzzled the word at Dorothea. "How I do this?"

"You will," the witch leader stated surprisingly in English, "lay with him as you would the one you call 'husband'."

"No," Elizabeth protested. "I no do that to Solomon. I love Solomon only. I..."

"If you do not," Dorothea interrupted and pointed to Ras's unmoving form, "then this creature will cease to exist and the peace your husband seeks will never come to pass."

Elizabeth looked at Ras's pitiful appearance. She knew he would most certainly "die," in the way her people could, if she did nothing. She looked at the closed door that led to the parlor where she and Solomon had spent many nights together for sixty years then felt a solitary tear run down from the corner of her eye and traced a wet trail across her pale cheek. She loved Solomon before she had been turned and loved him even more now that both of them were virtually immortal. She knew what Solomon would say if he were in the room with them, but she could not let Ras die, not after what he had done for her eternal love. Elizabeth wiped away the tear then spoke in the old language to the witch healer.

"Skazhy meni shcho robyty" (Tell me what to do).

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"I remember..." Ras said as he held Elizabeth tightly. "But that's all I really remember. Just... bits and pieces of everything else. The old woman, the pain, the feeling that I was going to... well, you know... not 'die' but... cease to exist. And I have you to thank for saving me, sweet Elizabeth."

"I do what the old lady tell me to do," Elizabeth said in broken English, her grasp of the tongue never fully mastered. "She is one who saved you, Ras..."

"You were the one that came to me, Elizabeth," Ras responded, holding the pale blonde at arm's length and looking into her ice-blue eyes. "The old woman knew that you, only you could help me. I will be ever grateful to you for that. And we became a part of each other that night. I feel it and I know you do too. If we had souls, they would be connected. Our love is..."

"No!" Elizabeth countered, turning away from Ras. "Not love! I love Solomon. He is my husband. I love no other man but him!"

"Yes, you love Solomon," Ras acquiesced. "What we have transcends..." he reached for a phrase that the non-English speaking creature would understand better, "... is bigger than love. As you love Solomon, I love Dana. I know we only met a few days ago but I can feel in the depths of myself that she and I were meant to be together."

"Yak shchodo toho, koho ty tak davno lyubyv?" (What about the one you loved so long ago?) Elizabeth queried in her native tongue. "Vona dlya vas bil'she ne maye znachennya?" (Does she not matter to you anymore?)

"She's gone, Elizabeth." Ras replied in a faint voice as he stared at the floor. "She died a long time ago. You know what happened. I'm sure Solomon has told you how I killed her in a fit of bloodlust."

"Vy vpevneni, shcho vona mertva?" (Are you sure she's dead?) Elizabeth asked as she turned and faced Ras again, lifting his chin from its droop and looked him in the eye.

"What do you mean, Elizabeth?" Ras questioned. "I was there. I remember it. I can never forget what I did. I killed her."

"You were young creature then," Elizabeth explained. "You not know what you were doing then. There is difference between killing and... what is word... trans... trans..."