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  • Beyond Nocturne Ch. 06

Beyond Nocturne Ch. 06

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"TURNING POINTS"

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

***

Michael and Lydia slowly rounded the corner of the complex, taking great care to be quiet as they neared apartment where Maricel was. It had only been ten minutes since they had both seen the mental image of the creature stalking her. The vision had been violently planted in their heads and brought them both to their knees. It compelled them to go to Maricel, to try and save her. The creature wanted them to come.

Apartment number seventy-seven was the one that they had seen in their shared vision.

Michael drew his gun and motioned for Lydia to watch his flank. The night grew dead silent they quickly moved through the rows of apartments Michael hoped no one was watching. He looked at the windows and found drawn curtains both lit and darkened. If anyone was watching, he couldn't tell. As they approached the block of apartments numbering seventy through eighty, Lydia heard the sound of rushing water. It was the sound of a broken pipe hemorrhaging water uncontrollably.

'I can feel him', Michael thought as they approached apartment seventy-five.

'As can I', Lydia replied, her thoughts focused and precise, so unlike they had been no more than a half hour ago when she had revealed her secret to Michael.

They had joined telepathically, and she showed him her true nature, the heart of an unwilling vampire. The joining had fused them together somehow, and they could now talk to each other with just a simple thought. Lydia had not wanted Michael to see the whole truth, and she had done her best to block him from seeing everything. She had wanted him to see all the little details of her life to better understand why she was the way she was. The decision to share her soul had not come lightly for her, but she finally committed to it only under the condition that she keeps hidden the truth about who killed his brother.

She knew he could never forgive her if he found out.

But she had been weak.

In that weakness she had slipped, and the fact that she was the one who had killed Stephen Wolverton. Michael had seen that it was her who had not only took his life, but somehow had cursed him with this new existence. Lydia had feared Michael's wrath and hate, but strangely, she hadn't been able to read his thoughts or sense his emotions when it came to Stephen. It was like he had turned himself off to her, he had somehow found a way to block her connection to him when it came to his brother.

Michael stopped in front of seventy-five.

"Here," he whispered as he put one gloved hand to the doorknob.

It opened with a barely audible squeak and swung wide. Lydia stood beside Michael and gasped, almost loosing her grasp on her twin blades as she beheld the sight within. The living room lights were bright and cheery, casting a warm glow over the massacre piled on the floor and furniture. A man lay crumpled on the beige carpet, his back broken and turned so his feet were touching the side of his head. His eyes were wide and glassy, criss-crossed with hundreds of bloody vessels that had burst in the climax of his death. A pool of blood had soaked into the carpet from the back of his skull, his dark hair matted and sticking to the fibers.

"Oh Jesus," Lydia whispered.

She looked to the couch and saw a woman's body sitting there. The body looked so relaxed that Lydia imagined she never even saw the attack coming. After her head had been severed it landed on the opposite end of the couch and came to rest on the left cheek. The woman's eyes were shut, thankfully (she might have been sleeping), but the mouth was popped open in a silent scream. Thick, bloody tangles of auburn hair surrounded the decapitated head and spread wildly in all directions.

The once blue couch was crimson and angry in the warm light. The smell of urine and feces filled the air of the room making it hard to breathe through the nose. Michael knew that it was typical of a recently deceased body to let loose of the body functions. There was something else though, something more potent than the stink of death floating around the apartment. There was a strong smell that reminded him of concentrated ammonia.

"Come on," Michael whispered.

Michael closed the door gently, his hand slipped into his jacket in his effort not to leave finger prints, and moved onto seventy-six. The door was unlocked and unnervingly ajar. Michael opened it hesitantly and found another body. An old woman had died in her wheelchair, apparently losing her head from behind. Blood had sprayed all the furniture in front of her in a high-tension spray. Her body was still in the chair for the most part. Her legs laid on the floor just as useless in death as they apparently had been in life. Her thick, brown house shoes had been knocked off her feet. The wheel on the over turned chair was slowly spinning, losing it's momentum and winding down.

Michael looked down. A pair of bold, horn-rimmed glasses rested at Michael's boot tip.

"Stephen didn't want anyone to know what he was about to do," Michael muttered as he closed the door, "He made sure when finally went after Maricel, no one was close enough to hear."

"God forgive me," Lydia said quietly as the door to apartment seventy-six closed.

"You're sure he's in here?" Michael asked as they reached the door of apartment seventy-seven.

Seventy-seven was at the end of this row, so there had been no one to kill on the other side of the apartment. Michael thanked God for small miracles.

Lydia closed her eyes and felt inside the apartment, stretching out and feeling what lay beyond. She shivered and felt Stephen's icy cold presence in the room just behind the door. He was waiting and not at all afraid of them. He was like a cold slab of obsidian in her mind, impenetrably black and sleek and yet possessed of some irresistible attraction. He wasn't just in the room. His anger filled the entire apartment like some thick smoke.

She could sense Maricel, still alive but somehow different. Something had happened to her. Lydia took a breath, "They're both in there."

"And the other two women?" Michael asked grimly.

"Dead," she replied. She tightened her grip on the blades, calming herself for the confrontation that was to follow. They glistened in the night, reflecting the sodium-glare of the lampposts that lined the courtyards of the property.

"Ready?"

Lydia nodded as Michael opened the door slowly. As it gave way, water began trickling out around their boots and draining along the incline of the sidewalk.

The room was glowing red, illuminated by the party lamp and crimson bulb burning brightly above the entertainment center. An eerie silence filled the room as they stepped in, weapons at ready. There was no sign of Stephen or Maricel, only a wet floor and soaked carpet. The same stench of ammonia was here as well, only much stronger. Lydia could hear the water spraying very clearly now.

Michael realized that the water had flooded the apartment as he walked slowly across the living room. He looked into the kitchen and saw a gaping hole where the sink and wall had been. Water was spraying up in a geyser to the ceiling and flooding everything. Michael took his flashlight out and clicked it on, a noise that seemed impossibly loud to him The water that pooled around his feet was pink as the blood in the carpet was lifted from the fibers and carried away.

"Stephen was pissed," Michael remarked, motioning to the shattered kitchen.

"Apparently."

They walked back into the living room, their boots sloshing in the bloody water. Several articles of clothing floated out from the hallway. A couple pairs of panties, a t-shirt and what Michael guessed were shorts drifted lazily by along with a few bottles of perfume. Lydia's long, black coat dipped in the water with each step as she neared the center of the room.

"They both died here..." Lydia paused in the middle of the living room, tilting her head and closing her eyes as if she were listening for something, "She tricked them both into loving her, though I don't think it was any great undertaking. Both women wanted her..."

"What else?" Michael eyed the clothes as they floated past him. A lacy red bra and a t-shirt with the phrase "Frankie Says Relax" washed by as Lydia tried to piece together what had happened.

"Maricel bit one in while they were intimate..."

Michael took two steps towards the dark hallway. He could sense Stephen back there, somewhere.

"The other was able to slip free of her influence," Lydia said as she held her hand out to the air, listening for the voices of the past, feeling for the clues. Their screams were still lingering in the air, their final moments still etched into the essence of the apartment. Lydia felt these impressions, these psychic etchings, as a blind woman would brail. She continued, "But Maricel caught her and fed."

"So where are the bodies?"

Lydia opened her eyes slowly and pointed to the hallway. "There."

"Okay then."

Michael flashed his light down the hallway, and saw only more flooded carpet and shadows. The three doors that lined the hallway were shut. He guessed the one at the end was a bathroom, and the two opposing were bedrooms. The light reflecting off the pink water sparkled and distorted on the white walls of the hallway. They cautiously entered the hallway, Lydia holding her blades at ready as Michael reflexively bought his gun to ready.

The sounds of their boots sloshing in the water echoed in the hall, and there was an audible grunt from the bathroom. Michael felt his hair rise up as he looked at Lydia. Her eyes were a bright blue, almost glowing as she looked back at him and nodded. He thought again of the dead people in the two neighboring apartments, the gruesomeness of their demise and briefly saw himself murdered at the hands of his own brother.

Would Stephen be able to recognize him? If he did, maybe he could reason with him, somehow reach that part of his humanity... But then, that hadn't seemed to be the case back in the alley.

He shuddered and pushed the thoughts away as he grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door opened and in the transition from dark they were almost blinded by the white neon light of the bathroom.

The first thing Michael noticed was the sound of the sink groaning. The low-pitched grunt they had heard earlier was the pipes losing water pressure as the kitchen sink bled. The second thing he noticed were the two naked women posed in the shower stall. The glass doors had been shattered and broken, leaving the stall open for all to view the grisly centerpiece.

Michael stifled his gag reflex as he took a step inside. The tall one hanging from a belt looped into the vent in the ceiling was named Tiffany. He could feel her identity, her last moments of life before the end. In his minds eye, he saw this woman as she had been before now, and was filled with sadness. She hadn't been a bad person. She wasn't a murderer, a drug dealer, a pedophile or thief. She was just an ordinary person. The kind of person Michael had been sworn to protect. She surely didn't deserve this...

Lydia had to force herself to look at the bodies. Tiffany had lost herself when the virus had been injected into her from Maricel's fangs. Perhaps it was merciful the virus had never had the chance to complete the transformation. Tiffany would remain human in death.

A twin pair of puncture wounds was visible above her vagina, just shy of actually piercing her outer lips. Her thighs were streaked with blood, and as Michael looked up he realized to his horror that her breasts had been removed. They had been torn off, along with most of the skin and tissue from her chest. Raw muscles were angry and bright red in the harsh light contrasted by purple and blue shadows in the valleys and under-workings of her anatomy. Strange, viscous gnawing marks showed where the creature had finally had his fill and stopped. Something, something that had once been his brother, had eaten her breasts off. Michael felt his stomach getting ready to heave and he turned away.

"Tiffany and Missy," Lydia said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder as he puked. A stream of yellow bile ejected from his mouth and splashed into the water. Even after everything he had seen as a cop, he apparently hadn't seen everything yet.

"God rest their souls," Lydia closed her eyes.

Missy was laying in the tub, almost totally flat on her back, her legs hanging over the edge of the tub, cut by the broken glass of the shower door. Streaks of blood marked the side of the tub in long red runners. Her neck and been ravaged, and Lydia recognized the handiwork of a virgin vampire immediately. The bites were erratic and frenzied. Missy had been spared the sadistic manner of Tiffany's death, though as she got a better look, Lydia realized that her eyes were gone. She stared into the empty gored sockets and felt tears welling up.

This was her fault.

In the end, it was her fault.

Michael finished puking and stood up, unable to look at them. He wiped his mouth off and breathed deeply regaining his composure. The pipes groaned again in their ghostly wail and were then overpowered by a guttural snarl from behind them. It sounded like a mix between a lion and some demonic grizzly bear from the underworld, a familiar sound that Michael remembered from the night in the alley beside the museum. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood straight up.

They both froze, and Michael turned slowly in unison with Lydia to face the hallway.

Standing in the rippling water, only partially lit by the illumination from the bathroom was the creature. Its powerful legs were taut and rippling with power. Michael could make out its fish-belly skin glimmering in the faint light. Its alien anatomy flexed and unfurled in anticipation of the kill. Searing red eyes focused on Lydia as its mouth opened, unspeakable black fangs and offset razor-like teeth anchored in its gums.

Michael saw it's large, snake like penis hanging down between its legs. It seemed to move on it's own, an eyeless albino serpent waiting for the moment to strike. Powerful hands equipped with hooked talons, connected to arms that even the most dedicated of body-builders could never have hoped to achieve, opened and closed. The knuckles snapped and popped like rocks banging together.

She wasn't sure, but Lydia thought it was smiling at them.

A moment of silence passed between the three of them.

"Where is Maricel?" Lydia asked, her blades offensively ready.

The creature cocked its head, not in confusion or ignorance, but in amusement.

"Where is she, Stephen?" Michael asked, hoping that the use of his name would somehow help him get through to his brother.

"Look," it rasped, and they were struck again by the images from its mind. Like it had been at museum earlier, they were helpless to stop the dagger of the creatures mind. They saw brief flashes of the creature feeding on Tiffany, the removal of Missy's eyes and the beating it gave Maricel. Lydia winced in pain as she saw the creature dig into the young woman's mind with all the tact of a bull in a china shop, shattering her senses and destroying her. They saw they creature fling Maricel across the room in a gleeful anger.

Michael sobbed inwardly as he saw his brother giving way to the murderous rages of the thirst, his anger no longer that of a righteous victim but that of a seduced maniac.

He was starting to kill for the pleasure.

"No, Stephen," Michael whispered as blood began trickling out of nose. His head was pounding from the invasion into his thoughts. He knew he couldn't handle much more of this.

In the mental movie projected into their minds, they saw Stephen grab Maricel's limp body and carry it to the bedroom. The creature's foot long penis moved of it's own accord and caressed her thighs. It slid like a boa constrictor to her pussy and forced it's way in, tearing her as it passed.

In the vision, Maricel opened her eyes and screamed, her arms held down by its massive hands. She struggled and suddenly was cut off as the creature mentally commanded her to stop screaming. The creature's cock stiffened inside her, and Michael knew it was ripping her apart inside. Maricel's eyes were wide with fear and pain as it tore into her, thrusting with a bestial lust and growling like a wild animal. Michael felt sick again as it came. Black, viscous fluid squirted out from her vagina as it released it's horrible seed inside of her. Maricel found her voice again and screamed.

"You son of a bitch!" Lydia cried, her anger and horror so powerful Michael could feel it like heat from an inferno. "No, stop it!"

Michael felt something building up in Lydia, something that scared the creature momentarily. It drew back for a moment, uncertain as to what was happening, the smile drained from its face. Summoning all her anger, Lydia was able to break the vision and send them crashing back to reality. There was a moment of disorientation as though a blindfold had been pulled off their eyes. The force of Lydia's mental attack sent Michael reeling back against the wall. The back of his skull struck hard making stars streak across his field of vision.

Lydia launched herself at the creature. Her blades hissed through the air and her eyes ablaze with a blue fire. But the creature was ready and pistoned it's powerful fist out, catching her in the chest. The wind was sucked out of her lungs as she collided with the fist, her legs lurching forward under their own momentum. Lydia wheezed as the creature turned and grabbed a thick handful of her hair. It held her like this, suspending her over the floor by her hair as she fought to catch her breath. Lydia cursed herself and realized she had underestimated Stephen again.

Michael came to his senses and stood up. Leaning against the wall he raised the gun and took aim. He was seeing doubles of everything. He strained and squinted taking the best aim he could. He squeezed off two rounds at it. Both shots caught it in the abdomen leaving nasty holes. A thick black ichor oozed from the wounds and dribbled down its body. It looked down at the bullet holes and then to Michael. Michael felt a crazy guilt sting him as it frowned an expression of complete shock. It released its grip on Lydia and she collapsed to the flooded floor with a splash. The creature turned to Michael.

"She killed me," it growled, every word sounding as though it were being torn from its throat.

Michael felt tears stinging his eyes. "I know, brother. I know"

"She KILLED me," it repeated. There was a pathetic undertone to it's deep voice.

"Stephen, we can get you help," Michael said softly, "We can beat this."

"What have I done?" it breathed, its face contorted into a grimace of sadness and pain as it looked at its monstrous hands. "The women... I can't stop it..."

"Did you kill Maricel, Stephen?"

The creature turned its head away.

Michael took a step towards his brother.

"Stephen, did you kill her?" he asked softly

"Kill me," it said quietly.

"I can help you, so can Lydia."

The creature's head snapped around, its eyes glaring red at the mention of her name. Michael held his breath, suddenly feeling very foolish for having gotten so close. Michael looked down at Lydia. She was lying face up in the water and completely knocked out. Her hair was floating in the bloody water just an inch or two away from the creature's foot. Michael looked back up and met his brother's inhuman eyes.

"Don't kill her." Michael said, "Please... she can help."

The creature grunted with disgust, turning its head down to her. Its broad chest heaved with anger, the sinewy arms taut and clenched.

"We can end this," Michael offered.

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