Women Scorned (11 page)

She didn’t see her observer staring at her through the window, mouth gaping, eyes wide. Her redheaded follower.

Camilla straddled the man, smearing blood over the light blue comforter, and placed her hands on either side of his head, pinning him in his own bed without touching him. With eyes barely open, she brought her face close to his and inhaled, sniffing his breath the way a cook took in the aroma of stew. Lips wet, eyes glistening, she lay on top of him, pressing her bruised breasts into his covered chest. Her black hair stuck out at odd angles, the matted spikes no longer stylish. A mad glint crept into her eyes. Blood trickled from the side of her face and plopped onto his mouth. He flinched in his sleep, licked his lips, then smacked them together as if tasting something good.

No longer could Camilla resist the painful desire. She didn’t think about how to do it; she just reacted. Sneaking her fingers under his head, she lifted him to her, sealing her mouth over his. She inhaled and inhaled and inhaled. She took in air that seemed like it could last forever. One last flash of the rape and murder went through her mind, but from his perspective. She could hear his thoughts as if they were her own:
mine, bitch… all mine. No one can have you now. No one can take you from me now.

The essence filled her. Arms and legs buzzed with electric life. Her head swam with it like a drug. An orgasmic sensation pulsed through her as she drew in his life force. Her skin glowed bright phosphorescence, lighting the room, lighting hallows in his skin. Her veins stood out dark blue, nearly black through her pale skin, pulsing.

There, you sick fuck. This is what you deserve
.
This is what I came back for
. These thoughts filled her head, coming from someplace outside of her. When Camilla chanced a glance to the side, she could see the faint glimmer of another spirit watching them, malice flowing from her pores. Though she’d never seen the woman from this angle before, she knew it was the one from her visions and smiled. Camilla laughed, inhaling at the same time, not thinking about how this was even possible, but laughing nonetheless, the giggles sinking into her core, making the sensation of his breath stronger.

And then it was done.

The moment she released him, his eyes flew open and he gasped, sounding like a drowning man finally breaking the surface of what was almost his wet grave. He rasped, choking, then began muttering to himself.

“She was so sweet, so tight; I knew I wanted her the moment I saw her, no questions, no questions just wanted her, would have her, so beautiful…” He sat up.

Camilla leaned back and noticed her stains on his bedspread.

“So sweet, her cunt, wanted to taste it, to feel it, teach her to laugh at me, teach her to smirk, no need to be so mean…” He scuttled into his bathroom, turned on the water in the bathtub.

She left him there, gibbering, seeing nothing. Endless emptiness consumed her, a void that could only be filled with another breath. But this fucker had nothing left to give. She could hear him chuckling to himself as he relived the other woman’s last moments again and again, tortured by his past.

She could still taste him as she left through the back door, remembering how sweet revenge had felt, longing for more. Looking down at her belly, she realized the red umbilicus no longer extended from her. Death loomed above that shell of a man. Her hands shook with the need for another. She would have more and more and more.

“What did you just do?” a voice hissed from the darkness. The redheaded woman who’d been following her, popped out of a bush, just under the creep’s bedroom window. The little dog quivered and pissed on itself, tail tucked between its legs as it tried to hide behind the stalker.

“What?” Her head spun with emptiness. All she could think about was getting another fix and here was this stranger getting in her way.

“You were supposed to eat him. Why didn’t you eat him? You just kissed him and left him there. He’s still alive.” The stalker stepped forward, gesticulating, voice rising though she still whispered.

“What?” Camilla squinted and shook her head. Her ears buzzed with the lingering effects of the kiss. Oh, how she wanted more.

“He’s still alive!” the redhead nearly yelled. “You’re just going to leave him like this? What did you do? Is he going to be a zombie, too?”

Camilla noticed something black clutched in the gesturing hand.

“And talk clearly.”

“Zombie? What the fuck…” She trailed off, thinking. What was she, anyway? What
did
she just do? “I’m no zombie,” she whispered. The redhead inched closer, holding the black thing up a bit, but still not getting too close. She didn’t crave flesh but something insubstantial, unnatural. Something most people probably didn’t realize lived on the breath in the first place.

“Are you going to do that to me, too?” The redhead stepped back, looking worried.

Camilla finally realized something. This stalker appeared much braver than she was. Sure, she’d followed a naked and bleeding woman around, not offering to help, not calling an ambulance, apparently thinking her a zombie the entire time, but she didn’t want to risk her own life in this venture, whatever it was. Camilla grinned, tilted her head and said the first thing that came to mind.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

The woman swallowed hard and took another step back. “I’ll scream,” she whispered. Her dog whimpered.

“Not if I can get to you first.” She felt wicked playing with and frightening her this way, but loved the evil feeling. “You know,” she said, “I can smell you from here.” She sniffed the air and grinned. “Mmm, tasty.” That was a lie, but Camilla loved the way the redhead whimpered like her dog.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I tormenting her like this?

“I just wanted to watch you,” she said. Camilla could hear tears in her voice.

“Don’t cry.” She was coming back to herself. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.” She stared at the stalker for a minute then asked, “Why are you following me anyway?”

“Because there are no accounts of a true-to-life zombie. I wanted to be the first.” She eased closer to Camilla showing more bravery than Camilla knew she felt.

She scoffed. “I hate to break it to you but, like I said, I’m no zombie.”

“What are you, then?”

She thought about it. Finally she said, “I don’t know.” She looked into the scared woman’s eyes.

“Shit,” the stalker said with a sigh.

“Care to help me find out?” People didn’t see her. She bled without dying. She hungered for breath.
What the hell was going on here? What did that fucker cop do to me?
She needed any help she could get. This woman, for some reason, could see her when no one else could. That alone was enough for Camilla to want her along. She didn’t realize until talking to the stranger how alone she’d felt. She hadn’t been acknowledged for four days.

“Okay,” the woman said, a slight tremble in her voice.

“You’ll have to keep up then. I don’t know where I’m going but I don’t want to waste any time.”

“Should we get you some clothes?” The redhead eyed Camilla.

Camilla looked down at herself. “Since no one else can really see me, since I don’t feel uncomfortable in any way, since I don’t know what the hell is going on anyway… no. I don’t think I really care about clothing right now. Besides, the last time I wore clothes I just felt dirty.” She remembered the way her pants squelched between her legs as she wandered toward the hospital. That all felt so far away, so long ago, even though it had only been about four days.

The redhead looked a bit uneasy with Camilla’s response but she went along with her anyway, not trying to sway her.

“I’m Libitina,” she said. She didn’t offer to shake hands.

“Camilla.”

Libitina laughed to herself. “That’s funny. I’d been thinking of you as Jane all this time. I didn’t think you’d have an actual name.”

They both laughed at that, but there was no mirth in it. Camilla needed another breath, and soon. Like a junkie, she trembled with desire. She didn’t know how to find more of what she needed but she knew that, like before, she would be led to the person who could satiate her craving.

Chapter Six

Aludra watched as the one she hunted emerged from the back door of the house and talked to the redheaded woman. She hid in the bushes listening to their hushed voices. Unable to hear what they were saying, she amused herself by examining their body language. She could tell the redhead feared Rory, and rightly so. If she only knew half what Aludra knew she would be terrified. The Spirit Carrier laughed in the dark, a shrill sound that rang clear, even from the distance.

Then the two women left. She could feel which direction the female half of Rory went so didn’t immediately satisfy the compelling urge to follow. Instead, she wanted to see what had been done to the man inside the house. She’d watched Rory follow him home. What drew her to him? Why did she go inside?

It had made her uneasy as well when Rory had walked through the wall. She didn’t know how they were going to keep her locked in the manor if she could walk through solid wood. She guessed there had to be safeguards. After all, they’d held the male half captive for months now.

She wouldn’t worry about it. That was for the High Priest and Priestess to figure out. Her duty was to bring the spirit half to them.

Aludra ran across the backyard and into the house.

She could hear the man muttering, crying and laughing all at the same time from what she assumed was the bathroom. Water splashed and she moved closer to the sound. The man she’d seen earlier sat in a bathtub filled with what must be cold water. His knees were drawn to his chest. He was rocking back and forth, shivering.

“Bitch had it comin’, had it comin’ all along, dress sexy, tease me like that. She wanted it, they all do, all want it.” And then he screamed, a piercing sound in the dark. Aludra flinched, then grinned as he continued ranting. “No, no, no, no, no!” He shook his head back and forth sending droplets spraying against the walls. Cupping his hands over his ears, he sobbed and said, “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me, not again, not again. No, I can’t.”

“What did she do to you?” She crouched next to him as he slammed his fists down, splashing her. She didn’t move, though her shirt now clung to her body. “Fascinating. You poor, poor dear,” she cooed and petted the top of his head. He continued ranting. “What pleasures you must be experiencing now. How rich your life must be. After going through this, you will have a better appreciation for living, I promise.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Yes. Feels good. I’m strong. I can take her, can take anyone. Tight. Sweet. No! No, I can’t.”

“What do you see? What did she do to you? Oh, what I wouldn’t give to experience your pain right now. I can see it.”

He turned his head. His eyes glistened black in the moonlight coming through the bathroom window. Aludra gasped and sat down. He didn’t see her. He turned his head forward again, rocking back and forth, splashing, yelling, laughing. When she noticed her hand cupped over her gaping mouth, she pulled it away, glaring at it dumbfounded. She then looked back at the man.

“Your eyes… what’s wrong with you?” She leaned forward, her heart pounding in her ears. This unfamiliar sensation crept through her and she didn’t know what to do. For some reason, she had a hard time bringing herself to touch this man. But he was just a man. Why should it be difficult to touch him?

She forced herself to place her hand on his shoulder again. He turned, screaming, his mouth gaping wide, vacant eyes boring through her.
He is not actually seeing anything
, she thought. Then he shouted, “You’re not the boss of me.”

Aludra pulled her hand back as if his skin burned and scooted sideways, bunching up the bathroom rug.

The man thrust his hands in front of him and struggled with an invisible attacker, thrashing his head from side to side. Then he screamed, a high pitched panicked sound, more like what she’d expect from a woman being tortured than a man sitting in a bathtub. Aludra’s hands flew to her ears to block the invading screech.

She left the room, panting, shaking. Something—she couldn’t say what—unnerved her about him. There was something different about him compared to any other person she’d encountered, something wrong, and she didn’t like it. It bothered her that his ailment escaped her knowledge. She felt unprepared, sickened by her weakness and inability to act in this situation.

His sounds faded as she moved into the kitchen to collect herself. Separated by the short distance—the lunatic’s ongoing screams from the other room—her nerves calmed. Her stomach and shoulders relaxed.

The strange sensations in her body had haunted her as a child when the High Priest had first taught her the pleasures of pain, but not since then. Her self-control astounded all the Order. And her ability to understand her world and how things worked became a source of pride. For the first time since childhood, she feared; she did not understand the world and her place in it. For the first time, she felt alone.

I want to know what the spirit did to make him like this.
She stared down the hallway. Feeling Rory was close enough, she decided she would stay with this crazy man until she understood what was happening. Time was still on her side and she knew where Rory traveled. There was no need to continue following so closely if she didn’t have to. There was plenty of time to play.

She refused to be consumed by feelings of loneliness and fear. She would instill these emotions in others, but never again allow them to enter her mind. She would find another toy and all would be better.

But first she needed some rest. Hearing the man’s tortured screams, Aludra shivered. It didn’t take much to push a person to insanity, she knew this but still wondered about what he saw, why he continued to wail. With a heavy sigh, she lay down on his bed and fell asleep, lulled by his unending tirade.

Her white-blond hair spread over his pillow, she looked like a sleeping angel to anyone who didn’t know better. Terribly beautiful, she could seduce anyone she chose. But she held no vanity, having no concept of beauty and ugliness. People were people in her eyes, each one ripe for the teaching.