She understood Smith’s motivations all too well in this situation; if he played a significant role in the capture of the creatures, he would be generously rewarded. He was one of the breed that lived for financial success and gratification and was not to be trusted completely. He was not drawn by commitment and purpose; someone who possessed a passion for what they do—someone like Commander John Reese.
Now there was an enigma. She had studied Reese’s file until she was intimately familiar with every detail of information that was contained in it. Perhaps what she found most to her liking was that in a way, they were very much alike. She was intrigued by his steadfast study of myth and legends—a field which would not lead to any quantifiable financial success. It was clear that what he did, he did for passion.
But what also interested her were the sacrifices he made in the pursuit of his interests. He had no life outside of his work. No commitments to any woman—there had been fleeting relationships but nothing lasting. It was as if he refused to allow anything to come before what he searched for thereby eliminating all distractions to that end. In this regard, they were very much alike. However, she was not sure about his level of patriotism, not knowing how far he would go to achieve the means she saw necessary to keep the United States safe.
She thought his role in the Team of Darkness operation was mixed. Of course he had been instrumental in their capture and enslavement yet according to some of the reports she had read, he seemed to have some moralistic issues of the use of the creatures. Still he followed orders, conducted the ops satisfactorily, and even destroyed the creatures when he had lost positive control—just as he had been directed to do. He followed his orders to the letter. Although these mixed signals perplexed her, she still felt his dedication and obsession toward the vampires could be useful to her—if she could ensure his loyalty.
If the creatures were recaptured, his insight could be of great benefit to the continued operation she had dreamed of. Of course the military aspect would have to be removed completely. Generals Stone and Morris had both been inept in their management which had had disastrous consequences. Under agency control and with Reese’s help, she thought she might be able to advance her own idea of a more wide ranging operation which would ensure the United States a position of superiority in the world forever. She dreamed of the creation of an entirely new agency: An agency that consisted mainly of vampires.
This new agency would become the main arm of covert operations. They would have a presence in every country of the world; immediately taking care of any problems that operated against United States policy and the democratic process. The opportunities for successes were mind boggling to her and these successes were her life—what she dreamed of—what she wanted.
Before she had realized it, Samantha felt herself slip into the physical euphoria that accompanied her life’s ambition. Normally physical pleasure as well as erotic thoughts were always kept locked up in her mental vault of secrecy because giving into them was, to her, a sign of weakness. Whereas many women dreamt their way to physical pleasure with thoughts of gorgeous men that would sweep them up in their arms and ravish their physical and emotional egos, Samantha tied her physical pleasure to her life’s goals: the final and lasting solution to the assured sovereignty of her country. The thought of a private army of vampires was the closest she had ever come to a solution for the problems of the world. Just the thought of it caused her body to tremble with the physical arousal of what could be accomplished. With each singular thought, it drove her closer and closer to an orgasmic pleasure of the body as well as the mind.
Her breathing began to quicken.
She felt her body temperature rise sharply—sweat began to accumulate on her skin mixing the sensation of hot and cold as she shivered.
Her heart thumped loudly in her ears and banged hard in her chest. Warmth inside her accumulated in giant masses; building toward a release.
She was going to scream. She placed her hand over her mouth to stifle it—she felt her teeth bite into her hand. Her teeth tore into her flesh. She felt the blood trickle from wounds and she tasted the sweet copper tang and she liked it.
Her blood. It was blood given to the cause. Blood had consecrated battlefields as well as back alleys around the world in the name of protecting freedom. She would give her blood freely and willingly to the cause. It was sweet like honey and she sucked at it with a passion; harder and harder as waves of orgasms flowed through her. She twisted and gyrated so violently in the chair with each surge of pleasure that she fell to the floor as waves swept her to the climax of her destination.
Her body tensed and stiffened as she rode the last gigantic wave to freedom within her. She arched her back and bit harder on her hand to stifle the scream that begged to be released. It flowed through her and she felt the intense warmth as her own release met the wave and she rode it toward the shores of her country as one united thought.
Samantha stayed on the floor of her office for several minutes as her breathing and heartbeat slowed to some semblance of normal. She lay on her back looking up at the ceiling, her body drenched with sweat. Her hand began to throb and blood flowed freely from the gashes she had made with her teeth.
Slowly she raised herself to a sitting position. She felt both drained and energized at the same moment. It was rare that she allowed the pleasure of flesh to overcome her. She saw it as a dangerous weakness that could lead to unclear thoughts and actions. But she also knew total and complete abstinence was a trap that she had to avoid. Both could make her vulnerable.
She never pursued lasting relationships with men for that reason. There was one man that she saw on a regular basis, but that was a relationship based upon physical need. And yet, he was probably the closest she allowed herself to get to anyone on any emotional level. They both worked for the agency and shared that common bond. Their relationship would be frowned upon if discovered, but given the anonymity of the members of the agency, few knew one another to begin with and the odds of a chance meeting near impossible. Yet it had still happened. She smiled.
Of course it happened… I arranged it and for a very good reason. She thought it was fate. A relationship based on physical attraction and keeping secrets as well. Secrets that she knew and he did not. It was a special relationship on many levels—all hers.
Relationships. The concept reminded her of the black widow spider that killed its male after mating. She considered the female spider’s act one of self-reliance: A perfection of the symmetry of a dedication to the cause. The spider’s act ensured a sustained superiority in breeding by only allowing one male to mate before its death. There would be no multiple mating and so the species would remain varied and not interbred. That was important in terms of her plan as well.
Like the spider, her plan would ensure no further dilution of the genes of the United States through tolerating the pompous arrogance of a world full of fanatical and idealistic zealots. She would eliminate those who chose to interbreed their impure thoughts with the United States of America in their attempts to dilute the principles that the founding fathers had intended. Foreigners or even citizens that opposed the rights of a democracy were all fair game in her book and needed to be removed from the body of democracy like a cancer.
She raised her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Slowly she began to rock herself back and forth. As she did so, she softly began to hum a tune. As she rocked faster the tune increased in tempo as well. As she rocked and hummed she organized all the thoughts that had come to her since she had returned to the office. Because of her physical and emotional outburst, she felt as if everything had been expunged—like a blackboard being erased and now it was empty and ready to receive a new list. She created a new list. A clear outline of what she would do.
As she continued to rock and hum, a smile slowly formed on her face. She stared directly in front of her, her eyes wide open and unmoving. To someone else who saw her expression, they would think that she had discovered some form of long sought inner peace—as if she had had some form of an almost religious experience and was now closer to God. That she had obtained some form of understanding of the most complicated or mysterious elements of life. Looks can be deceiving.
The sound of her phone ringing irritated her as it brought her back to a reality she did not want at the moment, preferring the fantasy of which she had been thinking about. She rose from the floor to pick up the phone. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound like you’re in a good mood,” the man’s voice said.
“No, it’s good,” she said immediately recognizing he voice.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Fine, your timing is impeccable,” she said quickly as she was surprised that it was the man that she had just been thinking about.
“How so?”
“I was just thinking about you,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Good things I hope?”
There was a pause as Samantha tried to decide how she should answer. At times lying came so easy that she actually had to try and remember the last time she actually spoke the truth. But that thought brought another: Did it really matter?
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE
“Does your silence mean they were not good thoughts?” the man asked now wondering if perhaps calling her had been a mistake. Their relationship was an unusual one, but given their careers, not much seemed normal to begin with. He held the diary in his hands, his fingers rubbing its worn leather the same way his father had probably done so many years before.
“No, sorry,” she said. “My mind was wandering. I am in the middle of a bit of a problem that has me on several different levels of thought.”
“Nothing serious I hope?” he asked knowing that she would not tell him any specifics. Their perverted sense of loyalty prevented them from sharing the details of their work.
“Just the usual,” she said and laughed lightheartedly and then she added, “And the world as we know it will come to an end if we don’t do something.”
“I see,” he said. “It seems like we’re always busy these days.”
“I won’t be able to get away for a while,” she said.
He was surprised at her interpreting his next question, but was not as surprised by her answer. “It’s not pressing,” he said feeling a little relieved about her being too busy to meet. The topic was an awkward one for him. “It’s about my father…some new information has made its way to me.”
“Are you sure it’s about him?” She asked.
“Pretty sure. It’s actually quite disturbing.”
“What’s the source?” she asked.
“Unknown, I received an anonymous package containing a diary.”
“How do you know it can be trusted?”
“I can’t, but it has a certain feel to it that feels right. But I will get it tested for authenticity.”
“Make sure you’re discreet,” she said. “Someone might ask questions. I’m assuming it is work related?”
“It’s been sanitized, but yes,” he said. “It also proves that I was lied to.”
“How so?” she asked.
“It suggests that there was a follow-on op that brought him back to the States rather than him disappearing overseas.”
“That is interesting,” she agreed. “Give me a few days,” she said. “I should be free then.”
“I will get it checked out and then see if any of my contacts can tell me anything.”
“Go slow,” she simply said and hung up.
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO
Christina opened her eyes. She stood near an old wooden picnic table. There was no fire and there was no Alexander. There was no one. She stood alone in the woods despite what she had just experienced.
It was a dream…nothing but a dream. When I entered the woods, it reminded me of home and brought back that memory of him. Recalling some of their conversation, she felt anger and shame.
She closed her hands, tense with anger and frustration at the experience that had come with the memory and as she did, her right hand closed upon something hard. She raised her hand finding it black with blood. Christina opened her fingers and saw a cylindrical object in her hand. The explosive device? It was covered by the same black blood. It was then that she realized that she had done it after all. It had been more than just a dream.
But if that was the case, where was Alexander? She had seen him. She had spoken with him. She had felt his touch. Or had she? Had it been him, or had it been her own thoughts that had brought him to her to do what she wanted to do? Were these thoughts part of some awakening she was undergoing?
She had felt strange this evening. Too many feelings were distracting her - taking control of her thoughts and actions. What was happening? First, there was her reluctance to feed upon Jake and then the anticipation of seeing John Reese again. Now there was removing the device that she’d willingly succumbed to so long ago. Christina wondered if perhaps she was losing her sanity. She didn’t know. What she did know was that she was free.
There would no longer be any outside control over her. She could do what she wanted. Be with who she wanted. She could even…go home if she wanted. Home?
There was much to consider and she felt overwhelmed by the possibilities. She also felt ashamed at how she had allowed herself to be used all these years. But it was only time, she thought and she had all the time in the world.
But first, I need to feed.
She felt hungry, near starving. The removal of the device had involved a heavy loss of blood despite her recuperative powers; however, combined with her already existing hunger she needed to feed and soon. Still holding the explosive device she decided that it might have a use later on—if for no other reason then as a reminder of misplaced trust. She placed the device into her pants pocket and then sniffed the air. She no longer smelled the presence of any other humans and now she wondered if there ever were any here to begin with.