NECROCITY TIMES - Issue #1 - HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

WPRS Shorts - Dearg Due

Morgan entertained herself smearing circles of crimson in her fingertips. It was fresh blood and she couldn't resist the thought of finishing off what the monster had started. She despises working cases that involve fellow blood suckers. As much as the black haired vampire loves the WPRS, instances remind her that she is very much an exotic pet on a leash.

"Don't even think about it, Morgue. Put pressure in that wound and wait until the paramedics arrive." Agent #2 came at her through the ear piece.

"Not that I would, Deux. This is the prey of a complicated leech. The vamp takes blood, leaves poison running through the target's system. Our buddy here is damaged goods. I'm just doing a reading, using one of Magistra's neat little tricks. I can hear the blood speak without having a taste. Magistra's always so considerate... I'll have mental pic of the leech in a second, even location if I'm lucky."

"I... can hear... you..." The man on the floor shook violently, the rush of blood heavy against Morgan's palm.

"I know, but not for long. You've been a bad boy and there's a Dearg Due claiming a stake upon your life. Lover's trouble? Tell me all about it."

Seizures set in. Erratic heart and intermittent abnormal brain activity is as good as gossip for Morgan. She read it clearly: his cheating heart, his ill will. The man had been the agent of psychological abuse and unrequited love that drove an innocent to suicide and raised a monster in return.

The sound of sirens approaching told agent and victim that their time together was coming to an end. The unconscious man will be someone else's problem. It was fine with Morgan. Though the ambulance looked exactly like those assigned to the Dublin Hospital, the paramedics had, besides medical, training of other...persuasion.

"Take this creep, Agent 35. There are monsters and then there's this." Morgan cleaned the blood off her hands with utter disgust. "Dearg Due venom is poisoning his system. Think cyanide with a magic kink."

"Noted, it will expedite treatment. Do you want the progress report CC'd?"

"Honestly, 35, I don't care if he lives or dies. Number Two will fill me in over coffee. I got a vampire to hunt."

Morgan sucked on her teeth and cursed under her breath. She didn't ask for much, just a couple of days off to kick back at the Stoker Festival and now she found herself on Halloween night prowling the streets of Dublin looking for a heartbroken entity that feeds on the blood of those who enjoy spurning their lovers.

All around her, kids in costumes ran asking for treats. Morgan missed the days when things were a little darker and not so commercialized, when the festivity marked the end of Summer and the start of winter; the promise of cold, long nights and the song of harbingers of death carried in the wind.

She found him at Glanesvin, huddled in a corner, the tracks of hot tears down his cheeks, cleansing blood that was not his own. He was barely out of his teenage years. And no doubt his lover, now in the brink of death, had been his first.

"I... couldn't help it, I tried." He said between broken sobs.

"I know. He created you. Love unrequited and suicide is the staple of the Irish vampire. You rose from the dead to kill your lover, but finishing the job won't grant you peace. It will not only be him, but many others, now that you have a taste for philanderers. Do you want peace? I can provide it."

The young man saw her for what she was. It is a gift granted to all vampires, to recognize their own. He simply nodded.

They took beyond the outskirts of the city, towards the place he was born and talked until the sun was about to rise. When both of them knew that soon enough the dark will turn to soft purples, Morgan drove an iron spike through his heart and buried him, sealing his resting place with a stone.

"Heavy stones to contain a heavy heart. Damn this land and it's love of poetry. It was nice knowing you, love. You'll be a sad report to write."

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You can always find Lynn () either at the WPRS, or at Wattvampires, loving everything that goes bump in the night.