Claudia eyed the older man as she entered the foyer, her violin tucked snug under her arm, her Polaroid dangling from her neck. "So, is it okay that I leave a note?"
"If you must,"
"I must, I must" Claudia snarked. She then sighed as the joke was lost on the old man who leaned against the door. Not everyone had watched 'Blazing Saddles' that night, she summarized.
Claudia steadied her head, writing a quick note to Helena … Mrs Wells, rolling it up. She smirked to herself as she tucked the post-it into the cold hand of the marble statue that sat in the foyer of the music room. Her gum smacked as she lifted her camera, snapping a pic of the rolled note.
Nate reached for the cold wall behind him, sighing as the hunger filled his soul, and then trying to deflect, "So, tell me, what piece you are studying with them?"
"Not much," Claudia said as she started to pick up her case.
"Please, humor an old man," Nate said, his bones cracking at the pain of the quickening age setting in, falling onto the bench near Helena's piano.
"Are you sure you are not Nate's dad?" Claudia questioned as she removed her violin. "It's just that … you have the same eyes,"
"All these years with them and I never noticed," Nate straining at a natural response.
"Are you really sure you're not related?" Claudia sighed as she thumbed through her sheet music.
"Quite sure," Nate replied as he moved to his chair, his hand reaching for his Cello.
"Well, this is a piece that I have been practicing for a while, hope I do it justice," Claudia shrugging her shoulders as she readjusted her violin.
"A little saccharin," Nate whispered as Claudia flexed her bow.
"That is what Nate says," Claudia shifting her head, her hand letting her bow fall just a bit.
"Are you really sure that you are not Nate's dad?" repeating herself, something off about the old man. Claudia's eyes then shining with a bit of her mirth as the old man looked up at her.
"You know Nate, speaks before he thinks," he replied.
"Is that what it is?" Claudia huffed, readjusting her violin under her chin as she rolled her eyes.
"You don't like Nate?" the old man asked. He finger slowly inching up, then sliding inside his shirt, smiling to himself as he felt the cold feel of the metal touch his skin.
"No, not at all. I love them both," Claudia said as she turned her sheet music. "It's just …" Claudia sighed.
"Just what?" Nate smiled, his thoughts stilled as he listened to his replacement drone on.
"I love them both," Claudia exacerbated. Then she swallowed as she saw a shadow pass over the old man's face. "Nate is just… I don't know, maybe a little distant," Claudia shrugged. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
"Quite sure," thin lips spread across yellow, aged teeth. Setting down his Cello as he slowly stood up, grateful for the pull of the girl's bow that drowned out the protest of his joints. The low grumble of his stomach hidden in the soft notes as Claudia warmed up.
He paced the small room as Claudia played, his hand playing at the crease of his shirt. Claudia eyed the old man as she played. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as the old man neared her.
"Forgive me," Nate whispered, Claudia furrowing her brows.
Her shriek was muffled as Nate's hand muffled her mouth, they struggled, Nate lifting the small girl up off the floor, her feet bumping into the pedestal, the sheet music fluttering down to the polished oak floor.
The Polaroid ripped from Claudia's neck crashed to the floor, capturing the image of Nate's blade slicing the soft skin. The pursed lips locking on Claudia's open gash on her neck, drinking every drop as the young girl struggles ebbed.
…
Helena had had an uneasy feeling all day, leaving the benefit she had attended short as she bolted toward the door of the museum.
"Keep it," Helena growled as she tossed the paper money to the driver of the town car she had hired for her day on the town.
Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob of their Brownstone; a flash of blood spraying across sheet music clouded her inner sight.
"Please, no," she whispered as she pressed her forehead against the door, trying to will her resolve, not wanting to believe what had happened in her absence. Helena inwardly cursed herself for leaving Nate alone as his hunger was now engulfing him.
She grimaced at past memories of Giselle, of leaving her alone to her vices;
The crowd had surged forward chanting 'kill the witch' as they lit the pyro ablaze. Helena being shoved back from the onslaught of the town folk.
Helena whispering over and over as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands pressed so hard against her ears to block the shrieking of Giselle as she burned at the stake.
"Come, you should not be witness to this," Nate's voice calm as the mob cheered. Him wrapping Helena in a blanket, leading her to his waiting carriage. Her heart harding as the cry's faded.
"Nate?" she called out, knowing his hunger was starting to take hold. She had hoped the change would have started later.
Helena had been cross at the younger generation, the blood lines seemed too thin as the centuries passed. Maybe something in the water had thinned the humans over the ages.
She set her purse down, hesitant as she was drawn to the music room, it seeming too overly clean. She knew the cleaning staff was not due till tomorrow.
The pull toward the marble statue drew with purpose.
Helena bent down, noticing the glossy paper behind the statue, and then rising as she pressed the Polaroid to her lips.
"What have you done?" she whispered, the events of the last few hours playing in her mind's eye.
Her dreams were dashed as she relived the bloodletting at Nate's hand, feeling his rage as he drain Claudia. She passed by Nate, him trying desperately to hold his fraile form stead against the door on their decent to the basement.
The bile building with each passing step.
Helena held the door open to the furnace, the faint smell of her once future mate was fading with each passing flame.
"Kill me," the horse voice filling the room as Helena's hand bent the handle of the furnace.
"I can't," Helena whispered.
Nate had stood at the top of the stairs, his body shaking from the ravage of the age consuming his body; he shook at the proclamation from Helena.
"Please, release me," he begged.
"I can't," Helena sobbing at the loss of her dear Claudia, trying her best to rein in her anger at Nate taking her next mate.
"So be it," Nate croaked out, his hand releasing his grip on the rail of the stairs, Helena sighing as she listened to bones cracking as his body tumbled down the stairs. No amount of physical damage he inflicted upon himself would kill him completely. She rushed to his crumpled form, lifting his head to her lips.
"My darling," she whispered, lifting with ease as she took them to the lift. "You will not feel," she said. The lift passing the floors, "But you will hear as the ages progress," she whispered. The door opened on the third floor, her laying his broken form down in the middle of the room
His mind's eye saw as Helena pulled an ornate coffin away from the storage area, his eyes drifting over all the coffins that were stacked against the wall, twelve at his last count as the dust filled the room, some settling in his now lifeless eyes as she shook away the tarp, then laying him in the ornate tomb.
"Giselle, be kind to Nate, tonight," Helena whispered as she brushed his cheek, his lips moving but no sound would escape as she then closed the lid to his tomb. Her hand then rose to her lips, pressing on both Nate's and Giselle's coffins.
…
Helena had changed into a simple black dress, herself enclosed in the safeness of her room before she fell down into the soft bed. Before, Helena had made sure to change the sheets, needing to release the smell of Nate from the room. Her eyes had just shut, trying her best to feel some sort of bereavement for Nate when the low hiss of the front door reverberated throughout her home.
A low smile forced her lips to curl upward as she entered the foyer, her dark eyes darting up to the monitor next to the front door. She smiled inwardly as dark curls filled the screen.
"Yes?" was the crackle over the intercom, shaking Myka out of her stupor.
"Um? Mrs Wells?" Myka cursing herself at the crack in her voice.
"Yes?" Helena replied in a monotone voice, again pressing the com button, a perverted feel growing inside herself. Her mate was just laid to rest, her still grieving at her next mate cut short by the ravage of her old mate. But, the sight of wild curls, of shining green eyes, had melted away at her so called soul.
"Umm, my name is Doctor Bering, Myka Bering," Myka stumbling over her words. God knows she was never good with the living; a cold, sterile intercom should have been a snap for her. The book signing was pure torture for Myka; her palms were wet the whole day until she met those dark eyes, feeling the embrace of warmth and protection.
Now, she stood outside an ornate home, her guilt eating at her for ignoring the rants of a man that pleaded for her help.
"Yes?" Helena feeling the over consuming guilt that coursed through this piece of cattle. Strike that, a soul that had some pull of that small muscle that beat inside her killer's heart.
But, that pull, something she had not felt in eons, stirred.
Something she had never felt, ever. Her brow furring at this new, foreign feeling.
Helena open the door, Myka's breath hitching as their eyes met, "Oh, hello," remembering that beautiful face, those dark eyes that bore into her soul that day at the book store. Myka then trying her best to remain the professional she thought she was.
"I'm Dr Bering,"
"I know," Helena smiled as she held the door open, watching this beauty stumble over her words.
"I have to be honest, your husband came to the clinic the other day and frankly, I thought he was a crank and I feel guilty about how I treated him and I am here to help …"
Helena's smiled as the younger woman's rambling were cut short as she spied the portly man over Myka's shoulder, knowing that Claudia was coming back to haunt her. Helena smiled, trying to hurry the woman up, but not wanting to lose a second of the warmth she felt.
"I am afraid my husband is indisposed, he is in Switzerland," Helena quick with her words as she watched the man slowly approach.
"Switzerland?!" Myka was stunned, her throat dry at the thought of this man she had ignored, now in some strange clinic. Myka then reached in her satchel, her eyes never leaving the curve of this woman's throat. She then blushed as Helena raised her eyes, catching her stare.
"This is my work number and my home number," Myka's voice pulling Helena away from the threat that was the man behind this beauty.
"Please, call me if you need anything," Myka said, the briefest of smiles crossing her face as she handed the paper to the woman.
"I will see what I can do," Helena putting on her best smile, which, if she was being honest, was not a chore, the curly haired beauty had been invading her dreams since the book signing.
Thoughts of taking, of slowly filling herself with this life force from the green-eyed beauty had overwhelmed Helena on many a night from their first meeting, tossing Nate aside after he was spent. Helena imagining the heated words of her name rolling off soft lips, green eyes blown black from lust. The throes of passion and an unending orgasm pumping the sweetness of the blood past Helena's lips.
One fantasy had kept playing in Helena's mind as she muddled through Nate's amours passions with her, each thrust of his hips enunciated every scene to play out;
The first glimpse of those curly locks, watching from the shadows of the corner of a dark bar. Helena moisten her lips as she watched the slender throat push the harsh liquid down. Her then silently stalking the beauty out the door.
Helena's smirk would file across her mouth as the unsuspecting woman entered into the dark alley, foolish human, Helena would whisper as she stalked her prey.
"Not another step closer!" Myka spinning around, some electrical gadget held firmly in her hands. Helena would lean back, hands raised as her eyes raked up those long legs.
"I wish you no harm," dropping her voice an octave, willing the honey-laced words to drift over to the tall woman. Helena then willing herself to rein in her ego as the woman would train the weapon on her. Her feet stilled in place as Helena stalked forward.
"What do you want?" the heavenly fright in the voice would float around her ears.
"You, all of you," Helena's words passing over her smile as she would reach for the young woman's hand, their fingers threading, causing the weapon to drop from Myka's hand.
Helena grinned as the woman shoved her against the cold bricks of the alleyway, her fingers tighten on the grip of the hand. A moan escaping her as the firm thigh forceable pushed between her legs.
"Oh yeah? Just me, you want?" a lopsided grin spreading across full lips as the moonlight highlighted the faint hues of auburn in those dark, curly locks. Helena then forcing down a hard swallow as the firm thigh muscle from the younger woman pressed at her core.
"And what about what, I want?" Myka's voice dipping down in timbre caused a shiver to race up Helena's spine. Her words escaping her mind as Myka's thumb and forefinger squeezed roughly against her hardened nipple. Helena letting the young prey explore with abandon as she lifted her leg to wrap around the girl's hip.
"More," Helena's voice hoarse from lust as the woman reached around, gripping her leg as her fingers dug into her flesh, increasing the rough thrusts against her center.
"You want, … need, more of me?" Myka's hot breathe brushing against her ear.
"Yes, Darling," Helena baring her teeth against the soft skin lining the long neck, the blade be damned as she sunk her teeth in that sweet spot so she dearly loved. The moans becoming gurgles as the blood raced from the small bite, blood flooding Helena's throat. Their hips canton against one another's as sanguinities overcame the younger woman.
Helena cleared her throat, repressing the phantom feel of the doctor's life blood sliding down her throat as she smiled, putting the small piece of paper in her pocket.
Myka nodding as she exited her door, making way for the portly man. His badge raised as they both turned, watching the young woman walk away. The sway of Myka's hips, the firm backside not lost upon Helena.
"Detective Neilson to see Mrs Wells," he stated as his head turned back to the woman in the doorway
"Welcome Detective Neilson, good cheer," Helena said as she opened her door wider, showing the man in. She walked up the stairs, showing the detective to the solarium.
"We are looking into the disappearance of Claudia Donovan, Mrs Wells." The well-aged detective in awe at the plants and the sun shining down as he took in the whole room.
"Not exactly heaven," he mumbled.
"Not exactly," Helena whispered as she raised her head. Then remembering she had to deter the Detective from what Nate had done.
"She is my student, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but I have been out of town. So I have not seen her," Helena replied. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, her reaching into her pocket.
Myka was feeling as if she was floating on air. She had been guilt ridden at how she had treated Mr Wells, then, her eyes met black, melting away all guilt. After she had given Helena her home number … Mrs Wells, her personal number, wanting to help her husband …
Myka dug into her pocket of her jacket, fumbling for the smokes there. She swayed her hips, feeling a bit aroused as she crossed the street, her flame flickering.
Helena was answering every question detective Neilson was asking, but, a feel of dread washed over her, stumbling her fingers in her coat, a sigh of relief washed over her as her fingers touched the hand written note. Then pressing it to her lips.
Myka was in a daze as she crossed the street between parked cars, her attention on lighting her smoke.
Helena sucked in a shaky breath as she pressed the small note firmer to her lips. Her minds eyes were filled with blood and pain as she willed her thoughts to the curly haired doctor that invaded her thoughts.
The semi shook to an unearthly stop, the smell of burnt tire treads and hot, glazed brakes filled the air. Myka's cigarette drooping from her lips as all froze, her eyes as wide as the drivers as his rig suddenly stop dead on the road. Her body shook from a foreign feel, dark eyes filling her thoughts as a wave of security washed over her for a brief second, and then pulling the cigarette from her lips, realizing her life almost ended at the oversized truck that was mere inches from her, then racing across the street.
…
Myka had pushed Pete away from her when he jumped into the shower with her, Myka giving a lame excuse of a head ache as she slammed the shower stall shut. A wave of melancholy washed over her as she tried her best to clean herself from the smell of cigarettes and burnt tire treads.
Myka leaned against the cold tile, her thighs tightening as she realized her fingers had drifted down her stomach, pressing into her wet folds, only to groan at the lack of another's hand, a woman's fingers she so wished was invading her. Wanting, wishing for the flush of a soft body pressing against her back as soft lips kissed her shoulder. She thought, or so she assumed, a hunger of lust was building in her only to jump at the chill, cursing the lack of production from their water heater.
The pull of dark eyes had clouded her thoughts as she toweled her curls, looking up, green eyes widen at the glimpse of raven hair in her bathroom mirror. She grabbed at it, swinging the vanity mirror open, only to be met with the image of Pete getting into bed. She sighed, a frown then growing as she combed through her wet curls.
"Must have been a bad lunch," willing herself to believe the lame excuses at seeing Helena in her bathroom mirror.
Myka had thought a good roll in the hay with Pete would satisfy her longing as she pushed away thoughts of her straddling the dark-haired beauty. Her eyes started to mist as she all but shoved him away earlier in the shower as she had soaped her curls, the sound of the phone ringing was almost deafening. Deep down, she hoped she would receive a call from the black haired beauty she had just met.
Myka pushed Pete away as she turned, hugging her pillow close as Pete had told her there was no ringing phone.
Helena felt she should have some sort of guilt, some remorse for Nate's passing, playing a solemn tune on the piano, a tear running down her cheek as she grieved for the loss of the two mates.
Myka was antsy, turning over, gripping her pillow; she stared at the wall for hours, her mind racing, then wiping at a single tear that ran down her cheek, her thumb brushing it away. A soft, melancholy tune echoed in her head.
Her heart was breaking, but for who?
…
"Hello?" the silence filling her ears as she held the phone, "Hello?" her voice curt.
"Barb, did you just buzz me?" Myka asked after she pressed the com.
"Nope," her assistant sighed, this last com call from her boss now totaled …
"Just as the last thirteen times this morning, no calls, Dr Bering," Myka's assistant huffed.
Myka sighed as she looked over her files after hanging up her phone, the feeling of uneasiness was filling her all morning, answering the phantom ring of the phone for the umpteenth time. Reading over the data, the lines blurring, none of the words coherent as Myka strained to concentrate. To rid those obsidian eyes from her head.
The annoyance in her secretary's voice triggered reminders of the confrontation with Pete from the night before. She blinked away the fight her and Pete had that night, willing her mind to lull into lustful thoughts of the raven haired beauty that invaded her short slumber.
She shut her eyes at remembering his grumbling as she pushed him off her, "What the hell?" Pete had said as he turned his back on her, none the wiser to her mood as Myka hugged her pillow, the soft sobs lost on him as he drifted to sleep.
The whole night was a struggle for Myka, her body exhausted but her mind racing at thoughts of Mr Wells, of Helena, no, Mrs Wells and those eyes.
She tossed her files to the side as she finally gave up, her not being able to think of anything else but the woman.
"Barb, hold my calls, I'm going out for the day," Myka said as she yelled over her shoulder, shrugging her jacket on over her thin white t- shirt.
"Hey, everything okay?" Leena asked as Myka tried to rush out of her office.
"Fine, just need some time," Myka said as she grabbed her satchel from the chair, rushing the door. "Just need a day off,"
Steve was just bringing a tray of coffee in, turning to avoid Myka's exit. His eyes flashing at Leena. "Since when does she take a day off?" as he held the tray of coffee over their heads as Myka rushed out.
Leena just shrugged as she took the steaming liquid,
"Since now?"
...
Helena smiled as she glanced at the monitor, unlocking the door. She returned the younger woman's smile after watching her run those enchanting fingers through curly, brown locks.
Their gaze meeting each other's as Myka gave a blush,
"I don't know why I am here,"
Myka had grabbed the first cab in line in front of the clinic, rambling off the address from her research of the Wells Brownstone from the day she had hunted down Mr Wells.
Still in a trance as the cab braked sharply in front of the home. She had tossed a few bills at the gruff cabbie, in a haze as her feet lead her to the ornate door.
If you had asked Myka how she had ended up on the stoop of one Mrs Helena Wells, the dumbfounded look would have been enough said. The full lips opening and closing as no sound was forth coming.
Helena just smiled as she opened the door further, watching the woman pass by her. Her breath was ragged as she pressed her back against the door, watching Myka set her satchel down on the table in the foyer as if she had lived there all her life.
"Please, make yourself at home, Dr Bering" Helena smirked as her hand brushed across the strong shoulders of the tall woman. Then entwining their fingers, Helena led them both into her parlor.
"Just Myka, please,"