As per usual, constructive criticism is very much appreciated.
I hope, for those of you who do read this or who have been following the story to see the progression, that you have/continue to enjoy the novel. This is a long addition so feel free to review in segments if that makes it easier for you 
Cheers
ps:
a note for those who are new to the story, < at the beginning and > at the end means that the dialogue is heard mentally, through thoughts, spoken via telepathy, etc.
Anyother questions or uncertainties, feel free to ask
*******
Chapter Four
When Lamia had finally surfaced from confinement it was close to three in the morning. There were deep circles under her eyes but at least they were clear and focused. In that time Laura had awoken twice, but not to feed. Instead she’d been frantically trying to free herself from her chains, sobbing and begging for answers. When that hadn’t worked, she’d turned to swearing and demanding to be released – threatening all kinds of bodily harm to anyone who would dare lay a finger on her. After Darius had replayed the feed for Lamia, containing her surprise had been a true test of her inner strength and self control.
So the demon had only been aroused once. She’d fed and sated her hunger, then in her first few hours since then Laura had awoken to be in control, scared and angry, but in control nonetheless. There’d been a struggle where the demon had not been happy about being held under her thumb, but even amidst her fear from awakening in the damp and grimy surroundings, Laura had still somehow managed to maintain her head and keep herself aware and conscious. Something that was almost unheard of.
It had taken Lamia close to three months after escaping to accomplish that, granted she’d been turned by a monster who’d trained her to become his little pet. Even after two thousand years she could not get away from it, the memories were as vivid now as they had been then. The screams, the blood shed and slaughter. The face of a child staring up at her with empty eyes, almost like the glass ones of a doll, hollow and lifeless, void of anything other then death…
“There was something else.” Darius’s voice called out to her as if it were underwater, pulling her back from that night where she’d wept and held the child she’d killed. The tears she’d shed that night welled back in her throat and burned like acid. “It aired on this evening’s news.” With a flick of a switch he’d turned on the television set and played the news story he’d recorded. The face of a pretty brunette filled the screen and she spoke in the slow and rhythmic tones of a seasoned reporter.
“There has been a small break in the series of murders that had turned the quiet residential area of Bamburgh Circle into a frenzy. Detectives Faye Sunhill and Kyle Brennar of the homicide division are joining us here tonight at Toronto Live 24.” The screen changed from the reporter who’d been sharply dressed in a pale pink suit to show the two detectives, drab in comparison with their plain clothes and appearing quite uncomfortable. Lamia narrowed her eyes when the camera zoomed in on the female detective, a woman with sharp blue eyes and a head of honey brown hair which was cropped short and curled as it pleased.
“The last victim Saadia Naseer was jumped just inside of Bridlewood Mall’s parking facility. From the video surveillance we were able to pull two images of the men who participated in the offense as well as the animal used as the murder weapon in all three crimes.” The screen split and an enhanced photo of Luther and Sangard filled the frame while Faye’s voice continued to speak in the background.
“We are asking that anyone come forward with any information pertaining to these two individuals. Any and all leads can help us in their immediate apprehension. The sooner they are behind bars, the sooner all of the young women in Toronto can go to sleep easy at night. Rest assured I intend to work this case round the clock if necessary.” The pictures were removed and once more detective Faye Sunhill’s face filled the screen and her blue eyes locked on Lamia’s. “I will not stop until I have found justice for Laura McVey, Zahra Alavi and Saadia Naseer.”
The television paused on Faye’s face and Darius waited a beat before he chose to speak.
“We’ve never had our face out in the public eye before. Sangard could be vulnerable; we’ll have to keep him low for a while.”
“Yes.” Lamia released an explosive breath then turned, one hand fisted in her ebony hair, the other skimming along her mouth while her thoughts began to race a mile a minute.
“Sangard left the other girl at the scene. She could tell the police too much if she hasn’t already. We need to have her taken from the hospital as much for her protection as well as ours. Luther didn’t kill her, I want to know why. It’s entirely out of his character to do so. But I can’t send you, I need you here to man the system, Sangard is useless with surveillance and technology. He’ll have to go, but he’ll just have to be more careful. And I can’t take the risk,” she continued but it appeared as if she spoke more to herself then to him at this point. “I am more settled, but its possible…I could still be…” With a deep breath Lamia closed her eyes and with a slow and deliberate breath forced herself to relax.
“Find her, Darius. Find where they are keeping the girl and have Sangard ready to leave within the hour. I want her back at the manor before dawn.” Turning to face the screen Lamia beheld the face of Detective Sunhill. In this woman she could see determination, perseverance, strength and resilience. All were admirable traits but all could pose a problem for them as well.
This wasn’t the first time a cop had gotten a whiff of her trail and had pursued Lamia relentlessly. However in such circumstances she had simply reestablished her base of operations elsewhere. This time it would not be so simple. There was still too much to be done and leaving Toronto was not an option. Not with Luther so close…
“We’ll have to keep an eye on this one as well.” Lamia offered with a nudge of her chin. “If she starts to dig too deep, we might have to consider some drastic measures. Let us hope that won’t have to be the case.”
*******
He drifted in and out of the halls, as vampires do. This was a public place, open to any and all that chose to walk its narrow corridors. Finding her would be like picking off a straggler walking the side of a long and lonely road. The slight hum from tasting her blood still churned inside him.
It had tasted of magic, new and raw, not yet tapped into or discovered. But there had been ancient quality to it as well. Heady, flavorful and intense, so intense that he’d been forced to stop. She’d unknowingly filled herself with light, which happened to be the only shield a witch could have against a vampire. He’d been lucky though, she didn’t know about her gift and so it had been only a little flicker. A warning.
Luther considered himself fortunate that had been the case, anything other then that would have been incredibly painful and near fatal. However, since he had tasted her, just enough, she would burn from the venom secreted into the system from where his teeth had cut through her pretty flesh. The wounds would have healed by now since his saliva acted not only as a debilitating agent, stunning the prey into submission, but it would heal the small punctures left behind, unless he’d chosen to feast on the flesh as well. For seven days the little witch would burn with fever; she would be his, lost in his spell.
As long as she burned, she could be controlled. She could be his puppet; his key to finding where that damnable bitch Lamia was keeping the three women who could potentially be the prophesized. He hadn’t planned on them stumbling across him in the ravine or in the empty lot. It seemed Lamia was forever one step behind him. Someone must have leaked the knowledge of his plan to an outsider, there was no other excuse. He’d been careful to tread cautiously as far as Lamia was concerned. In over two thousand years, the woman had never diminished or wavered in her quest to rip his heart from his chest.
She’d always been a fascinating creature. He’d definitely chosen well. Luther could remember the night he’d first laid eyes on her. Lamia, the newly appointed wife of prince Demetrius of Macedonia, the first daughter of the Greek King Magas of Cyrene. However that was not what one would find in the history books today, instead all would only know her as the woman who’d ravaged Libya, the truth of the woman had been erased and replaced with the myth of a monster. A monster he’d created.
His beauty.
Two thousand years later and he’d still been unable to find another who could replace her. There had been such passion, fire and intensity in her; she’d been wild, vivid and brimming with strength of spirit. How could he have possibly resisted the urge to possess her? Mortality for such a magnificent creature would have been such a waste; so Luther had given her the gift of eternity. He’d been careful to keep her locked in a state of bloodlust, she’d been stronger then the demon but he knew how to draw out the hunger, he knew how to lock away her mind and soul within his grasp. And so Luther had kept her away from light and company, visiting her at his leisure, whipping her into a frenzy for both blood and sex.
A chill tore through him at the memory. Perhaps, with the help of his little witch, he could subdue her once more. The games he would play. The fun he would have. The hell they would wreck upon the earth. With Lamia by his side, they could have conquered the world.
As he had thought. Easy. There she was, laying there in the hospital bed, tented by plastic and latched to the machines monitoring all her vitals and various levels. She was deep in sleep, drugged no doubt, to keep her calm and docile. At the foot of her bed was an armed guard but death had come to him on swift and silent wings the moment Luther had crossed the threshold.
The old man barely had time to bat his eyes before it was all over. The body now sat there limp and to most it would appear as if he’d fallen asleep at his post were it not for the unnatural angle of his neck.
Curiosity had him lifting the chart placed at the foot of her bed and skimmed through the various notes made by three separate doctors. Her fever upon arriving had been astronomically high, close to one hundred and twelve, next to the number in brackets were countless question marks and the word ‘fatal’ in big red letters.
A smile touched his lips. It had since dropped in the last twelve hours to a slightly less puzzling one hundred and three. Given the drastic amount of blood she had inexplicably lost and severe levels of dehydration the doctors feared some kind of new virus and potential epidemic so they’d taken to having her quarantined and carefully monitored.
Protected. Luther’s eyes lifted from the page and back towards the pathetic guard whose skin had already seemed to take on the graying tinge of early death. The chart clattered at his feet, when he moved it was more to glide rather then walk. He brought his hands from her neck, down along her round breasts.
In the entire history of vampires, none had ever succeeded in turning a witch. The idea pleased Luther, that he might potentially be the first to accomplish such a feat. Perhaps he would if he continued to visit her in stages. Drain her bit by bit. Slowly. There was no need to rush, was there?
Turning her face to him he kissed her hard on the mouth and delighted in the sweetness of her youth. He took her lip between his teeth and ever so gentle bit down until the subtle taste of her power and her salty sweet essence filled his mouth.
Releasing her had not been easy, but the heat was still there, as if it had never left.
“Candice, my sweet, open your eyes.” Without a moment’s pause she did as he bade and her glass green depths stared vacantly up at him. Her eyes were unfocused and hazy, lost in a trance and utterly enveloped by his power. His fingertips skimmed along her brow sweeping away a streak of blonde hair in a gesture almost reminiscent of a lover.
“I said that your time would soon come Candice, and now it has. When we are next face to face I will have to ask your permission to enter, to pass a threshold into a home that will not be mine, nor will it be yours. You will not deny me, no matter what warnings or truths you may hear, not even if your instincts dictate otherwise. You will obey me in this – you will give me leave to pass.” Her eyes had remained open and unblinking while he spoke, her chest rising and falling with the slow rhythmic breathing of a woman deep in sleep.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She’d spoken in a voice as soft as a sigh. “I will do as you have bid me.” Luther kissed her again, the temptation to drink of her blood pulled at him with longing but he resisted. There was more at stake here and patience was key. The demon was not pleased but it was not often that the man and the demon disagreed on a matter.
Luther was more often then not, willing to shed blood at the slightest whim, if not to sate his hunger then to simply revel in the thrill of the kill.
“Sleep now. Close your eyes. Upon waking you will have no conscious memory of this or of me…” He slipped away from the side of her bed and was gone with a breeze of wind and black mist.
*****
4:01 AM blinked in glaring red numbers on her alarm clock. For the first time in close to three weeks, and largely due to Kyle’s incessant bantering, she’d opted to sleep in the bed of her tiny condo just off Yonge and Eglinton Ave. Turning to her side she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She’d been out for nearly seven hours, and while the rest should have relaxed her, reviving her senses. Faye found that instead she was only far more tense and agitated then she’d been before collapsing from exhaustion.
Keeping her eyes closed she slapped on the lights on her bedside table and carefully opened them to narrow slits, hissing from the glare.
Coffee. She needed coffee in order to think, function, heck breathe. If the world ever ran out of coffee beans and oxygen, she’d die from caffeine deprivation first. The thought was mildly terrifying.
Stumbling into the kitchen she clicked on her coffee machine and felt a sigh build up in her chest from the smell of the fresh brew. Once upon a time she’d actually despised the bitter taste of black coffee. However, after working in a crowded precinct that was always poorly stocked with anything resembling milk or sugar, one became both accustomed to and dependant on the sharp and kick-you-in-the-gut potency all too soon.
What’s the matter Faye, cat got your tongue? The voice filled her head causing her to jump. The mug she’d been holding clattered to the floor and shattered in a thousand pieces. The terrible headache that’d been chasing her all day returned with a vengeance, so much so she had to place her brow to the cool granite counter top to ease the building tension.
“No.” She groaned trying to force the memories back into the darkness. “No, no, no.” The image of her father consumed Faye; the crazed look in his eye when he lunged at her mother after viciously snapping the neck of his eldest son. She’d been screaming, crying and begging him to stop. There was so much blood. So much of it, dripping down his chest and from his mouth…when he turned to look at her, his eyes were wild and maddened; filled with such evil and hatred.
What’s the matter Faye, cat got your tongue? She’d taken the gun from his holster which he’d kept hanging at the foot of his bed, pulled back the safety and shot him eight times. The last had finally pierced his heart. Only then did he drop. Only then had he stopped moving. Laughing.
Her mother and brother had been murdered; she’d killed her father with his own cop’s gun.
She’d only been twelve. The hands that braced the counter turned to fists which she wanted to plow through the walls. There wasn’t a single night that she didn’t have the nightmare, where she could close her eyes and not see his face covered with a grin and her mother’s blood, staring at her with crazed eyes and laughing.
Anyone who had known her parents had been so confused.
They were happily married for fifteen years…he’d never have laid a hand on her. Marlon O’Conner is a good man…a cop and a hero…there must have been a mistake…Faye had been sent to live with her mother’s sister Pamela; to afford her distraught niece some semblance of normalcy she’d had her last name changed to Sunhill which had been her mother’s maiden name; shortened Faith to ‘Faye’ as her mother had taken to calling her when she was little.
The story had been on the cover of every major newspaper for close to sixteen months: ‘Decorated Police Officer Marlon O’Conner savagely murders wife and son; is gunned down by 12 year old daughter in self defense’.
Only Commander Stykes knew of Faye’s past. He alone had looked beyond the scandal and seen her potential and had also understood her need for discretion, so he’d kept it all carefully under raps. There were times where Faye wondered if perhaps she’d become the monster that her father had been. The man whom she could remember before that horrible night, as always being so loving, gentle and kind. The man who seemingly had adored his wife and family…the man who had torn Faye’s world apart and continued to haunt her in her sleep.
With steadier hands Faye poured the hot, black coffee into a second mug and drank the scalding liquid deep and fast. It burned going down but it warmed through her bones and chased away the chill that had crept into her.
And this was why she hated sleeping here. This was why she hated being alone. At least in her office she felt somehow, safe and in control over herself and her fears; memories of her father seemed unable to torment her. There were so many details about the case that were a blur to Faye, even now, and being a detective she did have the ability to access those files and pull up all the data. But she wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet. Part of her was scared that if she did, if she somehow came to know it all, that instead of making it better, it would instead make it far worse.
She wasn’t strong enough – not yet. Until then, Faye chose to push it to the back of her mind and would drown herself in work, as she always did because the more she was kept busy, the less she’d be able to think about it.
The time was now 4:22 AM. The guard change would take place in an hour, plenty of time for her to swing by the hospital and pay Candice a quick visit to check on her progress before she made her way to the precinct.
********
Sangard waiting until the mist around him settled. It had been a little harder then they’d anticipated in locating her. The police were careful to keep any information under wraps and the media hadn’t managed to glean her location from any of their sources. Although, Darius was a genius with his hacking abilities, it had almost resulted in failure. Then after several attempts, he finally found a brief email exchanged between the two guards confirming their post for the night as well as the hospital’s location.
Staring down at her now Sangard could see that they were taking careful and precautionary measures to monitor her condition. Damn Luther. The bastard liked to take risks and this was far too close for comfort. She leaned heavily against him once he lifted her from the bed. With her in his arms, it was then Sangard noticed the faint smell which he could only detect due to the heightened senses of a vampire.
Death.
It was subtle, indicating that it was fresh and recent. Taking a few steps back he gazed down towards the foot of the bed and noticed the lifeless body of the guard who had been keeping watch over the course of the night. Shifting his hold on Candice he heaved her over his shoulder to free his hands, Lifting the guard, Sangard noted the sharp and awkward angle of his neck, it had been ruthlessly snapped.
Luther had already been here and for a second time had chosen to allow the girl to live.
The door to the hospital room burst open and for a moment, the woman who entered was taken aback by the image she beheld. There he was her silver haired mystery man with the unconscious body of Candice carelessly slung over his shoulder and the weight of a dead man in his hands.
In the blink of an eye Faye drew her gun and had it poised at his chest.
“Drop them, now or so help me I will shoot you where you stand.” Sangard obeyed as far as the guard was concerned, but he had no intentions of surrendering the girl. He had planned on walking out of the facility as it was not wise to travel on the mist with a human since it could be very hard on their bodies but in this circumstance he didn’t have much of a choice.
“Drop the girl. You aren’t going to be able to get past me, slick. I’ll have two between your eyes if you so much as even look at me the wrong way.” Her finger flexed on the trigger, blue eyes hard as glass.
“I am not the one you should be worried about.” Sangard spoke at last, the black mist swept from him in rolling waves and broke against him like water against the shore. “I am on your side Detective Sunhill.”
Faye shot two bullets and penetrated the thick black fog which had cleared in a matter of seconds. The strange man was no where in sight; Candice Faust was now missing and she had the body of a dead cop on her hands. Great. The wall showed only one bullet hole, so at least she’d pierced the son of a bitch. Holstering her weapon she drew out the guard’s radio and barked orders for back up and a medical team while checking his pulse, already knowing that the poor bastard was dead.
All the while she was ignorant of the small spatter of black blood which sizzled into evaporation on the white linoleum of the hospital floor.
