Vampire's shadow

She walked over the window, watching the moon while pulling on her shirt. Behind her, he put on his pants. He watched the young woman. She knew he was looking at her. she turned to him, a smile on her lips. He returned her smile.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“I think we’ve been together for more than an hour, but I’ll give you a friendly price. Okay?”

He nodded and reached into his jacket to take his wallet. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and another fifty dollars. A little extra to have withheld her so long. He put the money on the nightstand before settling his shirt. She crept close to him to take the money and put it away in her bag. She thanked him for the little extra, rewarding him with a great smile.

“I hope we meet again,” she said.

“Probably sooner than you think,” he replied, a faint smile on his lips. “So much quicker.”

She turned to him, asking him if he was serious. She stared into his eyes. She was seeing him for some time, but it was the first time she noticed how his eyes were deep and dark. The young woman began to shake. It wasn’t the first time a client frightened her. but this one was a regular. She forced herself to laugh.

“And what do you mean?”

“I like to feel your presence near me, smell your skin and hear your groans when I make love to you. I look forward the time of our next meeting to have you in my arms. Do you understand?”

The young woman frowned. She wasn’t sure to really understand what he had told her. The way he spoke to her looked like a love declaration a boy had done when she was in college. But she didn’t believe a man who liked unbridled relations could really be in love with her. He added that she was someone special. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“If I’m so special, then tell me why I’m a simple prostitute.”

He approached her.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t choose this life.”

The young woman smiled. She knew very well that no one would choose to live this way. Not a single prostitute she knew had really wanted to make a career out of it. Especially not in the street. But she worked with an agency. Not everyone had this chance. He took her hand and suddenly pressed it against his heart.

“I have a gift for you.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“A gift? What kind of gift?”

“Something that nobody else can ever give you.”

The young woman had sudden recoil, very suspicious. The last time a customer told her that, he had hit her several times and then tried to drug her wit heroin. Heart pounding, she stared at his face. She wasn’t really interested in reliving the experience. She made it clear she had to leave quickly because she might be late for other clients. He seemed upset by her response.

“I thought you had only me tonight.”

“I have an apartment to pay. My life is not as easy as yours.”

“It could be if you wanted.”

The young woman leaned over to put on her shoes, shaking her head. He began to protest, wanting to keep her for a little while. She took her bag and walked towards the door, playing deaf. She was much too afraid to stay with him. As she passed near him, he grabbed her wrist gently and kindly asked her to stay a little longer. She refused.

“And if I pay?” he asked. “Will you stay a little longer with me?”

She frowned. Being paid just to stay with a client? The proposal was very interesting. She knew he had a lot of money, but she didn’t know he had too much of it. He offered another hundred dollars for an hour. She became even more suspicious. She still had to persuade him that it wasn’t a very good idea. She had to try everything. She had to be able to convince him.

“It doesn’t pay much,” the young woman replied.

“So how much do you want for two hours?”

She remembered a very romantic movie she saw a few years ago. A rich guy paid a girl from the street to spend a week with him. The young woman had cried a lot at the end of the film because she dreamed the same thing happens to her one day. She bit her lower lip, not knowing what she wanted to get. She was still afraid of him and she didn’t really want to stay with him. She must ask him a sum of money so high that it’ll make him change his mind.

“For a thousand dollars, I stay.”

He had no reaction.

“Okay.”

She looked at him, stunned. She couldn’t believe that he actually offered a thousand dollars to spend two hours with him.

“Are you serious? I was joking, of course!”

“Why? I’m very serious.”

“I can’t stay. And anyway, your wife should be out right now, looking for you.”

He shook his head, saying he wasn’t married. He had no one in his life. She said again she absolutely had to leave. Without waiting for his answer, she opened the door and went quickly out of the room.

* * * * *

The sun was very hot. Ken looked down at the body of a young prostitute discovered by a young peddler early in the morning. The young woman was quickly identified by her parents: she was named Lynn Durham, aged just sixteen. Her mother had left in an ambulance after a nervous breakdown. Her father had settled on the sidewalk and now cried like a baby. After all, he had lost his only daughter. Inspector Morgan approached Ken, his notebook in hand. He picked up his cigarette from his lips and sighed. He took one last puff before crushing his cigarette with his heel.

“This is the fifth in three days.”

“Yes,” Ken replied, still looking down at the corpse.

“Any theory?”

Ken shrugged, looking more closely at the body. He came to a simple conclusion: all the victims had died the same way. Things got a bit more complicated. They had all been drained of their blood. How such a thing could happen in such a short time?

“This is a professional,” he finally said. “No trace.”

“I still don’t understand.”

The inspector tapped him on the shoulder, saying that a woman wanted to talk to him as soon as possible. Ken frowned, turning to the woman. She was tall and her skin was horribly pale. She was terribly thin and she seemed very nervous. She was glancing around her, suspicious of everyone. She wasn’t going very well. He went directly to her.

“Good morning,” he said. “Can I help you with anything?”

She nodded, peering around. She took him by the arm to lead him further.

“Are you in charge of this investigation?” she asked in a low voice.

“Yes. Do you know anything about what happened?”

She shook her head again, looking around them. Now he noticed that the young woman trembled from head to toe. He asked her if she was cold. She told him she could help him. Intrigued, he asked for an explanation of what she could teach him. She took a deep breath before saying:

“I know who killed Lynn.”

Ken raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a revelation. Now he understood why she seemed so scared. She even may have seen the murderer. The inspector asked if she could give him a little more detail. She quickly shook her head.

“But why?”

“Impossible because that’s all I know.”

“You haven’t seen the murder?”

She shook her head.

“But I know very well who killed her. I swear to you, inspector.”

The inspector frowned.

“How can you be sure?”

“He was very strange the last time I saw him. He wasn’t acting as usual.”

“You know him?”

She looked furtively around her like a hunted animal. Ken asked her how she could be so certain. He asked her what her name was. She hesitated to answer the question.

“Bridget…”

“And what do you do for a living?”

She began biting her thumbnail, looking around her. Ken gazed too, but he saw no one suspicious. She told him she could help him. She handed him a piece of paper. The inspector looked down at the spidery writing on the paper. There was an address. He laid eyes on her, asking what she meant.

“Be there at eleven. Don’t forget: room six.”

Then the young woman hastened away at rapid pace. Ken tried to hold her for a moment, but she didn’t listen. Why she hasn’t say what she was doing for a living? Reminding the short conversation in his mind, the inspector turned to Morgan. This young woman, Bridget, knew all these prostitutes. Suddenly, everything became clear: Bridget herself was a prostitute and the murdered should be a regular customer. He looked down at the paper he was still holding.

“Interesting conversation?” Morgan asked.

Ken gave him a big smile, replying that the young woman was very strange. Morgan frowned.

“How strange?”

Ken shrugged and sighed. Morgan snatched the piece of paper from his hands to read it. He turned back to the inspector, frowning. He asked what it was. Ken replied that the girl had asked him to be at this place tonight.

“Why?”

“She wants us to use her as a bait to help catch the killer. She’s a prostitute and I think he’s one of her client.”

Morgan shook his head.

“We can’t let that happen.”

Ken looked at the body of the young Lynn, stating that they had no choice. Bridget looked very serious when she said she knew the murderer. Morgan sighed, shaking his head. The inspector was right. This woman was perhaps right and the murderer might hit during the evening.

* * * * *

On the horizon, the sun was slowly sinking. Ken watched the landscape, ensconced in his leather chair. He folded his hands behind his neck. His mind was sailing in his past memories. He went back to all his classes at the police academy. He sought a way to completely empty a body from its blood. The coroner didn’t find anything particularly during his preliminary examination. He knew that when someone opened the veins in a longitudinal way, this person could die out of blood. But prostitutes were not suicidal. In addition, there was no trace on the body suggesting that the victim had struggled before dying. A person emptying of blood was probably showing signs of struggle. But the girls wore no trace of fight. They had two small holes at the main vein in the neck… The inspector shook his head. He wanted to get the idea out of his head, but it didn’t seem to leave. The image that formed in his mind couldn’t be real. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t believe it. In fact, he didn’t believe that myth which came from Europe might exist. Vampires only existed in movies and literature like Bram Stoker. But two small holes, why all the victims had them? He heaved a deep sigh, imagining a kind of tall and thin guy with long teeth very sharp. And if it was a woman? Another prostitute who doesn’t like competition? It was possible. He had to talk to this woman, Bridget. She could surely help. Reluctantly, Ken fumbled again the record of each victim.

* * * * *

Her hands trembled a lot. She was so scared. Why had she made that rendezvous with the police? She had acted impulsively. This guy had killed Lynn. And she suspected he had also killed the other girls. He was a degenerate and it was out of the question that he remained free any longer. He killed her friends. She heard a slight noise from the bathroom. Was it him? Slowly, she went to check what was happening. She was relieved to note that the window was just opened. The noise she heard was produced by the horizontal blind knocking against the edge because of the wind. What an idiot! Being ridiculous, she pushed the blinds and shut the window. When whirled around to return to the room, he stood before her. She uttered a cry of surprise.

“Good evening,” he said in a honeyed voice.

“How did you get in?” the young woman stammered.

He approached her, inhaling her scent, smiling slightly. He stared into her eyes and asked if she felt good. She hesitated before answering that she didn’t get much sleep last night. He shrugged and asked the reason for her insomnia. Bridget began to tremble. He took her hands.

“What happened to you? Why are you trembling? Are you afraid of me?”

He laughed.

“I’m not the big bad wolf, dear.”

“I… I’m not scared of you…”

She hesitated again, looking for a quick answer to give him.

“All the murders…”

“Oh yes! Prostitutes found dead… You knew them?”

“Maybe two of them, but…”

“I understand,” he said, a huge smile on his lips. “You’re afraid that the killer will attack you?”

She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. He settled comfortably on the bed and invited the girl to join him. She threw a quick glance at her watch before wringing their hands nervously. I have to make him talk before the police arrived… He frowned, his head slightly tilted to the left.

“You looked really nervous.”

“Let’s say my mind isn’t settling on… that…”

He seemed disappointed, but didn’t insist. He got up, but the young woman asked him not to leave her alone. A mocking smile on his lips, he approached her. Bridget closed her eyes, shuddering. She was really afraid of him, but she was still very attracted to him. He sniffed her scent again, tenderly stroking her hair. She felt his breath on her neck, warm and soft. The girl threw her head back, feeling her head too heavy. Come on! a little voice in her head yelled. But she couldn’t. Her legs were about to falter.

“You’re hiding something,” he whispered in her ear. “You have changed since last time. You looked at the clock. Are you waiting for someone?”

The woman opened her eyes.

“No…”

“You left very quickly last time.”

“I had other clients. I’ve told you before…”

He shook his head suspiciously.

“It’s not all.”

Fear got its way inside her, shaking her more. She dared not look. She was terrified. She remembered that at their last meeting, he talked about a gift he wanted to offer. Now she had to admit she was curious even though he scared her. She looked at him. He was still watching her with his dark look. What had he had to offer? She played the seduction card. As a sex worker, she had to use a working tool to keep his attention. He may be some kind of a protector. She stared into his eyes.

“You… you’re scaring me…” she said in a hesitant tone.

He smiled.

“Really?”

“But I… What did you wanted to give me last time?”

“What made you change your mind? You didn’t want it.”

She shrugged, barely controlling her tremors. She finally let down on the bed where he joined her. He put out his hand and tenderly stroked her neck. He confirmed that she would love his gift. She raised her eyebrows. Their eyes met for a long time before the young woman could lay on her back. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his voice. She felt hypnotized, unable to make the slightest movement. He whispered that it might be scared at first, but it would be faster. He told her she would finally be his.

“I… I saw you…” she muttered.

He sat up suddenly, his eyes black. He put his hand gently in her hair. He began to talk to her with a honeyed voice. She listened, still unable to move. He asked her to provide a little more information on what she claimed to have seen. He didn’t seem frightened by her answer, but he wanted to take no chances.

“You killed them all…”

He fumed with rage because he was unaware that someone had seen him. He asked her details and she told him how it had happened. She added that she had followed him into an alley until he leaded Lynn to finally kill her. The hand that caressed her hair suddenly clung wildly a bit wick before rejecting his head back. He heaved a deep growl before sank his fangs into her neck. The young woman moaned, a tear sliding down her cheek.

The bedroom door suddenly opened. Inspectors Morgan and Ruben burst into the room. They saw Bridget, lying on the bed. A shadow stood near the window.

“Don’t move!” Ken cried, taking his weapon out.

He cast a quick glance at Bridget. There was a pool of blood staining the bedspread. The shadow laughed before going through the window. Ken ran after him, but he was unable to catch him. Inspector Morgan rushed to the young woman, but she was already dead. He looked up at Ken who was still at the window, peering into the darkness. He trembled with anger. He hated a suspect absconding before he could question him. The ambulance arrived shortly after to take the body of Bridget. Her mother came to the morgue to identify the next day. She had no reaction.

“I want to catch this bastard,” Ken muttered, watching the city from the window of his office.

“Have you taken a look at the coroner’s report?” Morgan asked him.

“Yes, but there’s not much there.”

“She lost a lot of blood, but this is not what caused her death. Two small holes in the neck without losing all her blood like the others.”

“That’s what bothers me,” Ken sighed.

“She knew who the murderer was.”

“This guy is a real maniac,” Ken added, turned to Morgan. “But can you explain to me why he continues?”

“I guess he killed that girl because she knew too much,” Morgan replied. He had to eliminate her before she denounces him. It’s simple.”

Ken dropped into his chair with a deep sigh. Morgan lit a cigarette, getting near the window. He wanted to smoke, but no desire to get out. He opened  the coroner’s file.

“Common point between the victims?” Ken asked.

“Prostitutes.”

“The guy was probably a regular customer.”

Morgan thought about it for a moment before answering that it was possible. Ken added that the money might be involved, and he attacked the girls by surprise in the streets. Raised eyebrows, Morgan looked up from the file.

“Or he drew them in the streets.”

* * * * *

The night was very hot and humid. A small group of girls were talking quietly under a streetlight. They cast furtive glances around them. They were all very scared, but they didn’t know of what exactly. They had all heard about the latest victim, Bridget. Everyone knew her. She had always been nice to the other girls, giving them a little money sometimes. None of them wanted to be all alone after sunset. And they were suspicious of everyone, but they still had to work…

* * * * *

Inspector Morgan had to wake up Ken in the middle of the night to tell him that the body of Bridget had disappeared from the morgue. Ken hurried back to the station in order to see the file again. The coroner had reported the presence of blood under the nails and on the lips. It wasn’t hers. The analysis hadn’t yet been made, but the results would be available very soon. For him, this investigation took a very unreal turn.

He went to the morgue. His partner was already there. He had little stuff to show him: no sign of forced entry and the drawer number twenty-five had barely been damaged. The door too, for that matter. The only usable fingerprints belonged to the deceased newly disappeared. It was barely understandable! The morgue was examined in detail, but Ken couldn’t find anything interesting. The investigation became so strange because it was as if the girl went out on her own. Something quite impossible since Bridget was dead.

“I’m tired,” Ken groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“No trace,” Morgan replied, looking at his book. “She had vanished into thin air.”

“Given the circumstances…”

Ken’s phone rang. He got it out of the inside pocket of his jacket to answer it. He frowned, listening carefully to what the receptionist told him. According to what she said, someone broke into his office through the window. Nothing seemed to have disappeared, but a policeman had found a message between all the papers and files. She did the reading.

“It says: Milton Hotel, room two hundred and fifteen. Come tomorrow at midnight.”

“Thank you.”

He hung up before putting his phone back in his pocket. He turned to inspector Morgan.

“Someone went to my office and left a message.”

“A message?”

“For a little rendezvous in a hotel room. It reminds you of something?”

* * * * *

Ken was waiting in his car next to Morgan. The night was still warm and soft. Suddenly, they saw a shadow moving towards the back of the hotel. Quietly, they left the vehicle, gun ready. They took the same path as the shadow and entered inside the building by the backdoor left ajar. They climbed the stairs and went to the third floor. They stopped at the room number two hundred and fifteen and listened. They heard small noises. The door wasn’t locked. They entered cautiously. The shadow stood before the window. The room was dark, but Ken could see it was a woman. He asked her to identify herself, pointing his gun at her.

“You know who I am, Inspector.”

The voice was honeyed and captivating. Morgan pointed his gun too, but his friend motioned to do nothing. Ken decided to get her to talk a bit to save time. He asked her if he really knew her.

“Of course.”

“Who are you?”

The young woman came out of the shadow, revealing her face to the inspectors. Ken and Morgan lowered their weapons and recognized Bridget. Her face was livid, but a strange energy emanated from her.

“I need your help, gentlemen.”

“You are…” Morgan murmured, frowning.

“Not exactly,” the young woman calmly replied. “He couldn’t finish his meal. If you know what I mean…”

“How can we help you?”

“You must stop him. I want to make him pay for what he did to all those girls. I’m no longer afraid of him. While I’ll make him stand still, you’ll cut his throat with this.”

She held out a long sword blade that shone in the moonlight. Morgan laughed and said it was ridiculous. The young woman told them she wanted his head. Ken frowned when she mentioned that the guy was a vampire. They heard a noise from the bathroom. Bridget beckoned them both not to move before she ordered them. A shadow came out of the bathroom. The woman folded her arms across her chest, a faint smile on her lips.

“I knew you’d come,” she said.

A tall man entered the room. Ken admitted he had seen the shadow on the murder of Bridget.

“I thought I had finished the job.”

“You missed a drop. I’m still here and I’ll make you pay.”

“You’re wasting your time. I’m much more powerful than you.”

“I have an advantage.”

“Which one?”

“The surprise effect.”

Bridget gave a roar of rage before jumping on him.

“You’re going to pay!” she yelled.

She clawed wildly at his face and bit his neck. He let out a howl of pain and rage. Without letting him escape, the woman ordered the two inspectors to attack. Ken took the sword in both hands and rushed to cut off his head. Bridget jumped out of the window with the vampire’s head. The body collapsed on the floor. Moments later, the sun rose, drape the room. The body began to burn.

* * * * *

Two days later, police found the head half burned. Ken watched it a long time.

“The vampire’s shadow is gone,” he muttered.

THE END