Blood Ch. 01

The light moved over the club methodically, swaying to the beat of the music. The dancers couldn't quite be called that, nor simple bystanders. Everyone in the room undulated more than danced, gyrating back and forth to the dark beats that filled the hollow club. A Massive Attack song was heard in the background, low, the bass more audible than the beats. There were four bouncers outside, yet no security inside. A bar was to the right, but looked unused, several bottles of alcohol lying empty on the shelves.

Lincoln Carver noticed all these things upon his first three seconds through the door. A few years working homicide taught him to be observant, and a lifetime growing up on the streets before that had taught him the price of letting one's guard down. There were two direct exits he could see, including the one he had just walked through, as well as a door that seemed to lead upstairs and an open doorway that possibly led to the back of the establishment. The music was flowing seamlessly from song to song, but he couldn't see where the DJ, if any, was located. Overlooking the dance floor seemed to be a second story, one way mirror, which would be where the VIP room or management was located. He began to make his way towards the thick crowd.

Walking through the throng of dancers, making his way towards the back, Linc was assaulted several times by vagrant body parts rubbing against him, searching for a dance partner. When his stiff frame denied them, they went about their grindings alone, rubbing against each other or whatever they could find. Although several of the girls were pretty enough to catch his eye, none offered what he was looking for, and he continued through to the back. The far wall, appropriately decorated with flowers, was home to several diner style booths, the tables having been removed to offer better access to groping hands and public lewdity. Several were taken, most for the sake of libido, but the one farthest from the dance floor held only a single person.

She was young, hard to tell exactly how young in the current day and age, but definitely had lied her way in here. Her blonde hair, done up in pigtails, complimented the short plaid skirt that was hiked up almost around her hips. The school girl motif, while not entirely original, still brought in a crowd, and was an easy short cut to getting laid. More importantly, it seemed to portray the exact opposite of what dressing as such implied; innocence, naivety, and virginity. It was exactly the type of girl Linc was looking for.

He slid in next to her, trying his hardest to utilize the good looks his mother had assured him he had all his life. He looked a little cliché as well, the five o'clock shadow, the tailored leather jacket, but hopefully it would work as well for him as her outfit did for her.

If his manly swagger had any effect, she didn't let on, and, in fact, probably would have acted the exact same way if no one had sat down at all. He signed and pulled a picture out of his pocket.

"Do you know this woman?"

She looked at him, slightly interested now, and looked at the Polaroid. The face had burned itself into Lincoln's memory, and he took great care to show the picture to her in a way so that he, conversely, could see none of it. He could feel her presence, the woman in black, even though he couldn't see the picture. Mentally, he could imagine her image seeping through to the back of the Polaroid. Satisfied that she was done looking at it, he quickly stuffed the plastic back into a coat pocket.

"You a cop?"

"Do you know her?"

"No."

She did know her, of course, and asking was just a formality. The tough cop noir act died hard though.

"Your name is Alex. You've worked at the strip club on fourth and Balboa for six months, supposedly doing bar keeping under the table. Word is you do more than that. Word is, also, that this woman came in and spent roughly five thousand dollars on your...bar keeping... So, let's start over. You know this woman?"

Her eyes lost their focus at the mention of his knowing her name, and now she somewhat resembled an animal backed into a corner.

"I might remember her."

"What happened?"

"Girl came in, wanted to have do a private dance, real private. I told her we don't do that type of thing, but she kept insisting. Said she wanted me to give it to her. I said I wasn't a dancer. She said she'd heard different. I told her she'd heard wrong. Which is what I'm going to tell you."

"If you aren't selling, why doesn't the club put you on its payroll?"

"Because I don't want them to."

"Look, cheap prostitution is the last thing I'm looking for. I need to know..."

Her eyes changed from blank to cold slate in a split second, and he put his arm on her to stop her from leaving.

"You really are just a barkeep there?"

"Yeah. A friend got me the gig, said I could learn the ropes early, make some good money, maybe get myself through college. If my mom finds out, she'll freak out, he could lose his license for illegally employing a minor."

"How old are you?"

"You're not very well informed for a cop."

"Never mind, I don't care about you, or your friend, or your mother. I only care about this woman."

"Why, what did she do?"

"What did she say to you?"

"What if I don't tell you?"

Linc put a hand to his face, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose, and turned to look her in the eyes.

"Just...tell me. Please. It's important, trust me."

Alex paused, slightly.

"She said she just wanted to talk to someone, that she'd pay me five grand to go in back with her, said she was lonely. I said that was a lot of money, and that she must have the wrong idea. She said she'd give me anything I wanted. I thought about it, man, I thought about it, five grand, I don't think I've ever seen that much money. I kept thinking of my mom though, of my mom finding out, and I told her that I couldn't, that my mom would just die. And... she kind of smiled, and gave me the money, thanked me, and left. It's been three weeks, I haven't seen her since. I haven't touched the money neither, I keep thinking that if I spend it, she'll show up, it'll be a trick, she'll want something."

Lincoln sighed, deeply, and returned to rubbing his forehead.

"What did she do?" Alex asked.

He stood up, pulling her with him. She didn't resist.

"I don't know."

They began moving through the crowd.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

They reached the front door, and beyond, the cold air of the street. The bouncers were paid not to ask as many questions of the patrons on their way out as on their way in, and they did their job. They reached Linc's car, and Alex pulled away, roughly.

"Hold on, where are we going? What's going on?"

"I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

"Why? Am I not safe?"

"I don't know."

He moved to put an arm on her shoulder, and she shoved against his chest, hard.

"What the fuck do you know?"

Linc moved, slower this time, and rested an arm on her shoulder.

"I know that I'm here to help you. I know that something bad could happen to you if I don't, and until I know how I can stop it, you need to bear with me."

She met his eyes, saw the helplessness there, and stepped back.

"What kind of cop are you?"

Sighing, he held her gaze.

"I never said I was a cop."

"Then who are you?"

"My name's Lincoln...I...I'm here to help. I don't have a lot of answers, but I can promise you, I'm here to help."

Alex's gaze shifted, falling on something behind him, and she took his hand off her shoulder.

"Well, maybe she has some."

Lincoln turned as the woman in black approached. She was taller than he'd thought she would be, with a flowing black dress that gave the impression that she was gliding, not walking. She was a distance off, but was striding right towards them. Lincoln felt his spine turn to ice.

"Get in the car. Get in the car now."

She began to protest, and that's when she noticed the woman's eyes. As she passed through an area where the street lamps glow did not reach, she dropped out of view, but her eyes did not. They remained lit from the inside, refracting available light, reminding Alex of a wolf. Alex got in the car, Lincoln close on her heels.

"Hold on!" Linc screamed, shoving his foot down on the accelerator almost simultaneous with the key in the ignition. The car was parallel parked in between two others, but Linc made no sign that he planned on backing out using proper procedure. The car shot backwards and up, as it mauled it's rear bumper into the SUV parked behind them. Before the back tires had hit the ground, Linc had shifted it into drive and mashed his foot back down, meeting the floor mat. There was a screech as the SUV bumper ripped free, traveling with them a few feet as they lurched forward. The woman never moved, despite the fact that their car swerved nervously close to her in its escape. Linc noticed, crazily, that she seemed to be smiling. He also noticed, somewhat less crazily, that he liked her a lot better in his rearview mirror than in his headlights.

While neither admitted it, they both half expected to come upon the woman around the next street, or the next, though both were relieved when they did not. Lincoln made a point to check his rearview mirror three or four times a second, and, not fully trusting it, then checked each of the side mirrors to be sure. When he was sure nothing supernatural was following them, he pulled into a cheap motel and switched off the engine. Alex was staring out the window, looking surprisingly calm.

"Are you ok?"

She didn't answer.

"I didn't mean to scare you back there."

Her eyes seemed to stare at him in the reflection of the mirror, although it also created the effect that she was somehow staring through him as well.

"I...I don't know what that was...I've...I've been following her..."

Alex turned back, and said, "I do."

Linc froze, startled by the determination in her face, and then, when he realized she was waiting for him to respond, asked what she meant.

"She's the reaper. Come to weigh our sins. And I think we've been found guilty."

~~~~~~~~~

Lincoln thought the motel manager was a little too ok with his showing up this late to get a room with a young schoolgirl, but he supposed that he shouldn't complain. He got one room under the pretense that it would be safer to watch over her, but in reality he didn't have the money to cover two rooms. He had already had to haggle the guy out of leaving a security deposit, and he didn't think he would look kindly on any of the old credit cards he had in his wallet. In all honesty, he was surprised the man didn't ask him if he wanted to rent the room by the hour.

He helped Alex into the room, using his last few dollars to get her a cold root beer and some chips from a vending machine outside their door. She had forgone creepy clichés for silence again, and he was a little thankful for it. She sat down on the single bed, back to the wall, and drew her knees to her chest. Whatever attitude she'd had at the club was gone and had been replaced with...what? Linc had trouble figuring girls out under normal circumstances, he wasn't even going to try here. After checking the door to make sure it was locked (three times), he disappeared into the bathroom, preferring to make sure his Beretta handgun was loaded away from Alex's view.

It was his old service piece, older than most, but as reliable as anything you can get when you work for the city. He hadn't liked the gun much when he'd worked homicide, usually forgetting it in his desk, and now he was dismayed to find that his current situation didn't help him like the ugly metal thing any more. He always thought of his job to catch the people who used these things, and having one himself made him feel like a hypocrite. As he jacked a round into the chamber, he felt more than a little unease at how reassuring it felt to have the gun.

Alex was in the same position he had left her, and as far as he could tell, her eyes hadn't moved a fraction of an inch. He started to sit with her on the bed, then thought against it, and remained standing.

"I was a homicide detective, New York, working on a murder investigation that quickly turned into the hunt for a serial killer. Run away girls, always young, always...innocent. They were all from gentlemen's clubs, were always dancers. It was odd. They would all disappear for a few days, then reappear...different. Friends would comment on how they'd lost weight, how sick they looked, and more so, just...different. Several of the clubs offered...VIP benefits, if you will, and all of the girls who disappeared were known for turning down that type of action. When they returned, they not only changed their mind, but they only did those types of customers. The change in their behavior and lifestyle was a 360 from who they were before they disappeared. Girl who went to church, visited family on weekends, now they turned tricks. And then, after a while, they would be killed. Graphically."

Alex looked at him, moving only her eyes.

"Why are you here? How come you said you weren't a cop."

Lincoln sighed, looked down.

Finally, he said, "I found a girl, working at a club, who fit the profile: she had written poetry and helped charities on her time off, and suddenly, she was working more than any of the other girls, and twice as hard, if you know what I mean. I found her, talked to her, and she was...eerie. Almost like, even when you were talking to her, she wasn't really there. Like she was always imagining in her head some conversation other than the one you were having. I can't really explain it. I became fascinated with her, more than was necessary, started following her around, started watching her. I became certain that she was going to suffer the same fate as the others. My captain found out, and...put me on suspension. Using work hours for personal business. As far as he could see, my one-man crusade was bordering on obsession, and he took me off the case. I didn't listen, I went to see her...and...she died. I found her dead, she was strung up...I...they...kicked me off the force. They didn't know I took something from the crime scene though."

Alex stared at him, blankly, and didn't ask him to continue. He did anyway. It felt good to get it all out.

"The picture. The picture I showed you, it was in her hand. When she died. The killer left it. The thing is..."

Alex looked interested, but still remained silent.

"...the picture. It was inside the club you work at. She was inside your club when the picture was taken. And what's more...she took the picture herself. You can tell she's holding the camera. So...she was telling me...telling me where to go, where to find her, who her next victim was. I just needed...needed to find someone who was troubled...who was alone, but who was virtuous. Who was...innocent. That's what it's about, that's what it's always been about. Corrupting the pure."

He ran out of breath, forcing the last bit out like it left a foul taste in his mouth. In reality, he didn't want to scare her, he knew how this sounded, and he also knew that even though she had seen the woman for herself, she might not necessarily take his word for truth. She looked down and through the mattress, neither commenting on the story she had just heard nor seeming to think about anything but what the stains on the mattress could possibly be. He realized he was holding his breath, and let it go, trying to stifle the sound.

As if on cue, she made a move, then seemed to think about it, and then stood up. Her eyes swung around and locked into his, and he fought the urge to gasp. The force with which she met his eyes was startling considering the near catatonic state she had been in a moment earlier. Standing, a full head below him, she lifted her shift off over her head. He blinked, trying not to look at her small breasts, barely concealed underneath a red bra. He took a step back, grasping for baseball figures, for movie trivia, anything to take his mind off how long it had been since he had made love to a woman. She took a step forward, and dropped down onto her knees, the pleated skirt hiking up, her hands moving over his belt. He was hard already, despite his mind's reluctance, and she rubbed the bulge it made in his pants while undoing his belt with her other hand. Linc groaned, and backed up again, falling backwards, scrambling away from her.

"This isn't right."

She crawled on top of him, running her hands up his chest, through his hair, one hand always massaging his cock through the material. Baseball, movie trivia, anything...

"This...this isn't right. Stop."

He shoved her away, a little harder than he meant to, and she finally looked a little surprised.

"I'm 18. You don't need to worry."

This, quite possibly, was the most ridiculous thing he could have heard, and he let out a short laugh. Something passed through Alex's eyes briefly, and then she was staring at the ground, gone again. He made a move towards her, hand outstretched, wanting to comfort her without it leading to another advance. He realized she was crying, soundlessly, the tears flowing freely down and off her chin. His hand found a place on her shoulder that felt good, and he squeezed it, hoping it was as reassuring as he meant it to be. Her eyes didn't even shift, but she brought her hand up and enclosed it around his, drawing strength from him, and that was something at least.

"I...don't want to be innocent," she spoke. "I'm tired of being good, of worrying what other people think about me. I want you...I want you to fuck me. I'm tired of being innocent."

Linc didn't say anything, but left his hand on her shoulder. He couldn't tell if she was still crying, but her shoulders were trembling slightly. He moved his free hand up, over her face, cupping it, wiping the tears away. Lifting her face closer to his, he smiled at her, brushing her hair away. She was beautiful, it was true, and somehow the tears made her look both older and younger than she had originally. Small, delicate features graced her countenance, and she had the type of look that would forever haunt her as making her look too young, inexperienced. Her eyes, brown flecked with honey like specks, closed under his scrutiny, and she began crying harder. He couldn't imagine what this woman had been through, but suddenly he felt closer to her. He remember how the bodies had looked in New York, remembered how long ago since he had walked in on his last girlfriend with another man, and then, walked out, remembered the deli down the street from the precinct where they always gave you the ham on rye too cold, remembered every single unfair thing that had graced his life, and he felt that this woman, this young girl, that she had felt it too.

He barely remembered doing it, but suddenly he was kissing the tears off her face, his hand running through her hair, pulling her closer to him. She backed up slightly, then suddenly was bringing her mouth up to meet his, her lips wet and her tongue darting into his mouth. There was a split second when he felt like he was taking advantage of her, and he pulled back, but she was there, she was telling him how much she wanted him, telling him how much she wanted this, and all objections were gone with the moment. Her mouth was mashed against his, her tongue shoved into his mouth, her hands roaming over his body. Laying a hand on the small of her back, he laid her down carefully on the floor. He began to rise, to shift position, but she grabbed his belt hard in her hand, pulling him down on top of her. Without knowing entirely how it had happened, she had wrapped her legs around him, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her sex barely covered by the thin material of her underwear. He could feel her hips grinding against him, against his own sex, and a moan caught in Alex's throat as she continued their kiss.