Sons of the Dragon

The one named Radu approached the two young women on the dance floor and asked if he might join them. Maryellen readily agreed and soon became totally infatuated with the man in the black cape and some sort of red suit underneath it. They went back to their table for a drink after about fifteen minutes of dancing, and Radu joined them. Maryellen hung all over him. His eyes and voice seemed to mesmerize her. He recited poetry in an English accent. Amanda herself said he had some sort of incredible animal magetism. Soon Maryellen whispered to Amanda that she would be leaving shortly with him. Amanda suggested a threesome, but her girlfriend said no. How fortunate Amanda felt afterwards, that she didn't go with them, after her best friend was turned into some sort of mindless zombie.

"What about the bizarre bone dancing?" Ray interrupted.

"Maryellen told Amanda that Radu ejaculated seven times in an hour. Four times in her vagina, twice in her mouth, and once in her anus. And he had a huge penis that never, not once, didn't stay totally erect during that hour and his seven orgasms. And she couldn't even count how many orgasms she had during that time."

"That's physiologically impossible!" Cy asserted.

"I can do that!" Ray boasted. "Hey, baby, how many times can you cum in an hour?" He leered at Margaret.

"With you? None, I'm sure." Her deadly look froze him into silence.

"And then, this Radu came back to the room and soon Amanda heard Maryellen scream, and then silence on the line?"

"Yes, Cy."

"Maybe he was doing her again and that's why she screamed," Ray offered tentatively. "I make them scream."

Margaret looked troubled, but not about Ray. "Cy, do you see that man dressed in black and red sitting at the bar? With the bushy, drooping mustache?"

"Yes, I see him."

"He's been watching us."

"So I noticed," Ray agreed. "Watching you, sweet meat," Ray suggested boldly. "You're one hot little number."

"It's probably nothing, Margaret," Cy offered feebly, upset by his partner's crudity, but not knowing what to do about it. Although he had learned to ignore Ray's blatantly misogynistic behavior, he found himself unable to do so now that it was directed at Margaret. He wondered how long Margaret could tolerate it. I hope she smacks him upside his stupid head, and stomps on his balls.

"Speaking of sweet meat, I see something at the bar I like," Ray said as he rose. "All this sex talk gave me a big boner. Would you like to see, Miss Margaret?" She pretended she didn't hear. "I need to get my hose drained."

Ray approached the young lady at the bar. She was displaying her ample wares in a halter top cut so low that her breasts looked like they would pop out at any moment and a miniskirt barely long enough to hide her panties--if she were even wearing any, that is.

"Hello, honey," he greeted. "I'm in town for a few days on business. He showed her one of the fake cards he had made for such occasions."

"Hello Raymond, I see you are a vice president," she purred seductively. "My name is Candy. Auto parts?"

"Yeah, do you need some body work?" he asked, with a chuckle.

"Oh yeah, baby. I love body work."

"What do you do?"

"Oh, well, I just don't know. Depends," the hooker cooed, letting him see even more of her voluptuous silicone-enhanced melons. She didn't think he looked like a vice cop. He looked like a chump who had an expense account and could be persuaded to spend up a storm. And the business card did look legitimate.

"How much for some Candy?"

"Why don't you buy me a drink and I'll check the price list?" He ordered her another Long Island Iced Tea." She drained it quickly and her look told him another one would be appreciated. He motioned for the bartender to do her again.

"So, Candy, what's some smoked pickle going to cost the bank?"

"Fifty for oral. A hundred for anything else. Condoms required."

"Even for oral?"

"Damn right."

He showed her his badge. "You just might be under arrest, Candy."

Her shocked look quickly evaporated. "Might be? I have an alternative?"

"Let's go in the bathroom and negotiate."

"Okay."

Once inside the men's room, which was rather large with two urinals and a commode, Ray quickly unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard and eager cock. Damn that Randolph bitch. What a cock tease. I'll just pretend she's the dumb cunt who's blowing me. I know she wants to. They all do.

Margaret gave Cy a vampire lesson in Ray's absence. She explained that the Nosferatu of Transylvania, according to some legend and lore, caused their lovers to enter into a kind of euphoric state, which then evolved into another stage where the "victim" eventually became emaciated and even catatonic in some cases. Hence, some thought it to be the result of disease or plague. She reminded Cy that the eight young women tied naked to the stakes last Halloween had all now lost a substantial amount of weight. Certainly, they appeared catatonic. They didn't want to eat, or do anything else. But no medical cause of their malady had been determined. Yes, and I have had all the so-called medical experts examine my sister. Nothing. They can find nothing wrong with her that they can explain medically, scientifically, or any other way. I can, but no one will believe me.

"Cy," she said softly, "One mind can interact with another, without words or any other apparent communication. I believe that it does happen. A person can generate a thought or feeling in his brain, and in the form of waves of mental energy, plant those thoughts or feelings in the mind of another. One who understands this phenomena can purposefully transfer thoughts to another. But only the alpha male has the 'dark gift' -- the ability to seduce women mentally, and then seduce them physically, over and over and over. Until the women turn into zombies, their bodies satiated with sex, and their brains satiated with remembrances of that sex. Euphoria that they try to relive in their minds again and again. It's all they obsess about."

"You are saying that a Nosferatu…well, what exactly are you saying, Margaret?"

"That this alpha male, a Nosferatu, is a "blood" relative of Vlad Tepes. A Nosferatu is not immortal, but is supernatural. The alpha female with whom they mate must be of a certain blood type in order to provide the…uh…necessary engorgement of the applicable member to maintain a continuous erection, despite multiple ejaculations. Thus the loss of a certain amount of blood on the part of our eight victims."

"But, Margaret, you are trying to tell me that…"

"I'm telling you, Cy, again, that in order to do battle with the forces of evil, you must understand the nature of evil."

Just then the chief of police, Tom Akers, walked into the tavern and found Cy and Margaret immediately. "Where's Ray? I have to get him to sign this police report. The assistant D.A. needs it for an arraignment first thing in the morning."

Margaret interrupted Cy, who started to speak. "The sergeant is in the men's room. He's been in there awhile."

"Well, I can't wait forever," the chief complained. He stormed toward the bathroom.

Candy had a lot of experience in getting them off quick. Ray proved no exception. On a good night she sucked around twenty cocks. Her current record was thirty-two at a stag party, and she did the groom twice, the last time for free. It all took only about an hour.

"C'mon, baby, guzzle some cum, give me your best hum job," Ray ordered, as he had pushed the young, voluptuous hooker to her knees.

Candy had been playing with his cock and now it stood straight up, begging for her soft wet lips to cover its head. She slid her mouth up and down over it, and swung her head around and around and around like a rag doll, as she twirled her lips gently around the ridge at the back of the head of his throbbing, eager-to-be-pleased meat. This dude is going to bust a nut in two minutes, for sure, she predicted to herself. She let his cock feel the back of her throat, and then took him back out again until her lips closed on the head. Back in all the way. In and out, in and out, in and out. Candy buried her face in his bush as he thrust viciously at her, trying to get deeper and deeper down the pipe. His body began to shudder and convulse, as he moaned and screamed every imaginable obscenity. She sucked it out of him, hard and fast, swallowing, and then took his cock back to the bottom of her throat as he took his last deep shot.

Just as Candy began to clean him off expertly with her lips and tongue, Chief Akers opened the men's room door. "God damn it, Ray!" the chief blurted. "If you weren't off duty, I'd suspend you for sure this time. For Christ's sake, don't you ever keep your dick in your pants? Here, sign this."

"Uh…Chief…I…uh…"

Candy, amused immensely by the situation, held Ray's cock on the tip of her tongue, and let the last drops dribble down her throat.

"Sign the God damn police report, Ray!" Akers roared. The sergeant did quickly, and the chief stormed out. "What a moron!" he snarled at Cy as he left the tavern. "Does the asshole ever quit thinking with his little head?" he added in disgust.

Ray came back to the table, a big wet spot on the front of his pants, and a serious grimace on his face. "The chief is really pissed at me," he concluded miserably.

"He damn well should be, Ray," Cy chastised. "That's only the third time he's caught you with your pants down."

"That's such a shame," Margaret consoled melodramatically, with just the right touch of contempt. "Well, I'm calling it a night, gentlemen. You too, Ray. I'll see you early tomorrow, a couple hours before we meet with the chief."

Margaret rose to leave. As she walked to the door, the man at the bar blocked her path. They spoke to each other as their eyes locked. He couldn't seem to look away from her and his facial expression changed from one of agitation to fear. The man fell to the floor and twisted about in convulsions. He made low gutteral sounds and chanted something frantically.

Cy and Ray took immediate control of the situation and summoned emergency personnel.

"What do you think is the matter with him?" Cy asked Margaret.

"Some sort of seizure, I would suspect."

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing, really. He said I looked familiar and wondered if he knew me. I said I didn't think so."

"I think the witch cast a spell on the guy," Ray proposed, recovering somewhat from his ordeal with the chief.

"How did you know?" she spat at Ray. "I read minds, foretell the future, and prepare a variety of magical herbal oils, creams, and powders. I am a witch, and consort with the devils and put them under my spell. No, I didn't graduate from Harry Potter's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft. I obtained my Venefica at Hexenshule in Klagenfurt, Austria."

"Huh?" he muttered, perplexed.

"Never mind. I seriously doubt you have ever read Malleus Maleficarium, the witch hunter's Bible. It also contains a section on how to hunt and kill vampires."

"Wha…wha…what?" he stammered.

"I said forget it. But then, that little head you do all your thinking with doesn't have the mental capacity to comprehend much of anything, does it? Not to worry, I'll let the chief know, when I talk to him tomorrow, what a pig you are. But he already knows, doesn't he?" Ray's face turned beet red.

She turned to the older detective. "Cy, make sure they get some of this guy's blood at the hospital."

"Why?"

"I'm interested in blood, didn't you know?"

"Yes, of course you are, Margaret. Whatever you wish. They probably would anyway. I'll tell them I want the blood taken to ascertain if the man was inebriated."

"Thank you. Goodnight." She walked out.

* * *

Margaret called Cy on the cell phone number he had given her as soon as the sun rose and asked rather urgently, "Did you get the blood?"

"Yes. I'll give it to you at the station in a couple hours."

"No! I want it now!"

"Give me half an hour, Margaret, I'll bring it over to your hotel."

"Please do."

He made it in twenty minutes. She grabbed the container from his hand and rushed out, with, "I'll see you at the station right after lunch."

* * *

Margaret made the two hundred mile drive in about four hours. On the way, she thought fondly of Nellie, her nickname for Dr. Nelson Rutherford.

Dr. Rutherford, a forensic anthropologist, had given her numerous lessons regarding DNA when they talked. He told her that there are around a hundred trillion cells in a human body, and in the nucleus of cells are bundles of chromosomes. Genes consist of Deoxyribonucleic Acid -- DNA, the master molecule of life. The sequence of the base pairs with the DNA helix is unique for every person, except for identical twins, forming the individual's genetic blueprint or code.

DNA typing, he explained patiently, had significantly expanded the sources of evidence that could be tested and the amount of evidence needed to conduct a conclusive analysis. The DNA typing for humans is very similar, the professor maintained. The small amount of differences, known as polymorphisms, are what is analyzed to distinguish one person from another. Two methods are most prevalent. The first is VNTR, which measures the length of the the DNA at specific locations. The second is PCR, which determines the difference in the nucleotide letters to be found in a specific pair of bases. Blood, semen, and saliva are the best sources for accurate DNA testing, Nellie had informed her.

"Hello, Nellie." She embraced him warmly as he opened the door.

"Hello, Margaret. I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you again, my dear."

"I can't stay. Urgent business. Life and death. Do you remember my sister?"

"Why yes, of course. Such a tragedy."

"It's about her. And the others. Possibly more young women that may suffer the same fate this Halloween"

"My God!"

"Yes, my God, indeed. Here." She handed him the blood sample.

"Margaret, I will conduct DNA typing and other analysis and report back to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Nellie." She kissed him lovingly on the cheek, and ran back to her car, which she had left running.

* * *

Radu met with his chosen ones at the motherhouse they had established in an old abandoned church in the city.

"The Randolph woman has compromised one of our own. The one who I assigned to follow her. He must be destroyed before they find out."

He projected his voice to an earth-shattering level, and then spoke too low for humans to detect. But his minions heard.

"She must be stopped. Before the night of All-Hallows Eve, the night the worlds of the living and the dead become blurred, and our brothers the ghosts of the dead return to the earth to wreak havoc on the inferior human beings who populate this ungodly place. The coffins of hell are waiting to be filled."

Again his voice rose, causing the building to rattle and shake off its foundation.

"I have taken her family and now I must take her. She is a "mekasefa," a witch--the curse on the Nosferatu."

The wall cracked and dust fell from the high ceiling.

"Bring her to me!"

* * *

Margaret arrived at the police station too late to meet with Cy and Ray. They were already in the chief's office.

"Hello, Ms. Randolph," Chief Akers greet somberly, intentionally ignoring her pedigree. "Ray has been telling me you have a whole pile of wild and crazy theories about vampires." Cy just shrugged helplessly.

"The vampires are coming! The vampires are coming!" Ray gibed.

"Shut up, Ray," the chief ordered. "Please tell me about your theories, Margaret, I'm very interested," the chief said in a patronizing tone.

"Chief Akers, why did you bring me here?" she asked, very seriously. "The truth, please."

"CYA," Ray suggested, before the chief could respond. "To cover his butt." The chief silenced him with an ominous stare down.

"Margaret, I don't know exactly what happened in that other town," the chief began, "but I certainly don't want to discover eight naked young women tied to stakes the day after Halloween in my town."

"Nor do I, Chief Akers, nor do I," she agreed, as a single, large tear fell down her left cheek. "Let me ask you a few questions. Last Halloween's eight victims were all taken to the same hospital. That hospital used rape kits furnished by the Sexual Assault Evidence Collection Program. Each kit is a box that contains detailed procedures for evidence collection and all the medical equipment necessary to conduct a thorough medical examination on a sexual assault victim."

"We don't know that those sluts were raped," Ray objected. "They didn't say so, now did they?"

"No, the women didn't say so." Margaret glowered fiercely at Ray. "But a rape kit was completed on each victim. Semen was found in each instance. There is no question that the women did have sexual intercourse shortly before they had been tied to the stakes. The rape kits, in small white boxes, were sealed in plastic by hospital technicians, labeled with a case number by a detective, and stored in refrigerators in the medical examiner's office. But they were never tested for DNA."

"Of course not," Chief Akers interjected. "No reason to spend $1,000 to test each one. First, you don't have confirmation of rape. Second, you have no suspect to compare the DNA with. Third, I'm not sure exactly what crime we do have here. Some might say tieing naked girls to stakes is just a…uh…"

"I've tied up lots of girls," Ray offered. "They like it like that. You wouldn't believe how many chicks are into bondage."

"Thank you, Ray," the chief acknowledged irritably.

"Do you know what happened to those rape kits, Chief Akers?" Margaret asked.

"Happened to them? No. Tell me."

"They mysteriously disappeared from the medical examiner's office a few months later."

"I'm not sure that surprises me all that much, Margaret. We occasionally have evidence that up and vanishes for one reason or another and nobody knows why."

"Yeah, like the gun in that multiple homicide," Ray concurred. "Drug deal gone bad. The perp, Otis Simpson, got off, and then he did it again."

"We sure looked like fools in that one," the chief uttered. "That's what I don't want to see happen on Halloween. I'll dress as a clown and pass out candy, but I don't want the media all over the country portraying my department as a bunch of clowns. Now, Margaret, give it to me in a nutshell. Not possible theories. What you think. And Ray, you keep your damn trap shut until she's finished. Cy, you are unusually quiet." He just nodded.

"A Nosferatu, the name given to the vampire of Transylvania, possesses meta-normal perception, hyper-dimensional consciousness, and extraordinary telepathic powers. He also has super-human physical ability, which is increased even more dramatically by ingesting a certain type of human blood. The eyes of a Nosferatu are incandescent and hypnotic to humans. One of the victims of last Halloween, Maryellen Patton, described the eyes of the man she left with that night as flaming, beautiful, and alluring. She claimed to her friend he had sexual prowess beyond comprehension. A Nosteratu is infatuated with torturing humans. Vlad the Impaler, the first 'Son of the Dragon,' murdered 100,000 victims by impalement, one of the most gruesome ways of dying one can possibly imagine. He ordered his subordinates to oil the stakes and make sure they were not too sharp, or else the victim might die too quickly from shock. Usually the stake was jammed through the anus until it reached the throat. Except for unfaithful women. They got it in the vagina. And babies were frequently impaled on a stake forced through their mother's chest. But the 'Son of the Dragon' also liked to put nails in heads, burn them alive, scalp and skin, mutilate sexual …"