Read Online Out of Body by Stella Cameron - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stella Cameron
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puppet prepared only to study the reasons for Embrans’ increasing difficulty in keeping deterioration of their bodies at bay. That’s what the Supreme Council wanted from him. He should find out what had happened all those years ago in Belgium, when a woman-Embran had returned below, taking with her some disease visited upon her by her ungrateful human husband.
He would get to all that—but not when he was finally enjoying himself again.
Two years ago bad luck had forced him to give up the ultimate pleasure of the kill. Before that he had savored countless delightful terminations until he had been unfortunate enough to come upon a series of seven victims who forced his temporary seclusion. Those seven had come to him willingly, as their kind did once they were promised money for their time. But all seven, each one in a row, had lied in saying they had no one who cared where they were and what they did. And so their disappearances were reported to the police by their wretched survivors and New Orleans became too dangerous a hunting ground for him.
But at last certain events had caused him to return to his natural ways and, in particular, the woman he left in the river earlier had reminded him of all he missed. He had perfected a new system to cover his tracks and that woman was only the beginning—a decoy to keep any attention away from what was really happening.
For as long as he stayed safe he would continue. Then he would retreat again, and watch the silly little humans scurry in search of what they would label a monster, while never knowing who he was and having no means of pursuing him.
How he had hugged himself with glee at the sight of the so important policeman trying to quiet the citizens of New Orleans from a television screen, even as his own fear showed in his eyes. They found the one in the river faster than he’d expected, that much he admitted.
“Who’s there?”
Damn, the captive woman was waking and he hadn’t completed his transformation. His head was always slow to resume its magnificent and rightful form. Quickly, he shuffled back into the shadows. His vision had changed and he saw her through a film of red. The slashes that were his pupils elongated her. This next prize was a gift from a fool who crossed him and broke his rules. But to be fair, the fool had also brought him renewed vigor.
Sounds broke from deep inside him, muffled, bayingroars. He tossed his head. His mouth stretched open wider, and even more wide. A muffled snap and fiery spears darting into his brain warned him that his human jaw had dislocated. Not long now.
From his mouth, a broad, slime-coated nose and lipless jaws thrust out. They slid steadily forward and he rocked his human head, felt it fold back on itself to make way for the final, full exposure of his authentic self.
“Where are you?” the woman moaned. “Why am I here?”
As if he would tell her, the foolish creature. She had wanted too much, but she would get nothing. He would take everything away from her.
Slowly, he stepped toward her. She lay on a heap of cushions in a corner. The switch he flipped sent the cooling system into rapid mode. Icy mist curled upward and the woman shivered.
He needed to bite, but must contain himself. It was the bites that killed, not the scratches since only his teeth secreted poison.
Even if he’d been unable to see at all, he would still have known the instant when she saw him. Her breathing stopped, for a long time, before it started again, wheezing, high-pitched, punctuated with choking shrieks.
Don’t die before I can kill you, he thought .
I hate it when one of you dies from shock. I want to taste warm blood in my mouth. I want your heart to beat until the final strike.
“Oh, my God,” she whined .
Pale now, her eyes wide and staring, her mouth an ugly, stretched hole, she scarcely looked like the same woman who had come to him.
He tossed his head and bayed. And he parted the robe, let it fall.
Her scream
He would get to all that—but not when he was finally enjoying himself again.
Two years ago bad luck had forced him to give up the ultimate pleasure of the kill. Before that he had savored countless delightful terminations until he had been unfortunate enough to come upon a series of seven victims who forced his temporary seclusion. Those seven had come to him willingly, as their kind did once they were promised money for their time. But all seven, each one in a row, had lied in saying they had no one who cared where they were and what they did. And so their disappearances were reported to the police by their wretched survivors and New Orleans became too dangerous a hunting ground for him.
But at last certain events had caused him to return to his natural ways and, in particular, the woman he left in the river earlier had reminded him of all he missed. He had perfected a new system to cover his tracks and that woman was only the beginning—a decoy to keep any attention away from what was really happening.
For as long as he stayed safe he would continue. Then he would retreat again, and watch the silly little humans scurry in search of what they would label a monster, while never knowing who he was and having no means of pursuing him.
How he had hugged himself with glee at the sight of the so important policeman trying to quiet the citizens of New Orleans from a television screen, even as his own fear showed in his eyes. They found the one in the river faster than he’d expected, that much he admitted.
“Who’s there?”
Damn, the captive woman was waking and he hadn’t completed his transformation. His head was always slow to resume its magnificent and rightful form. Quickly, he shuffled back into the shadows. His vision had changed and he saw her through a film of red. The slashes that were his pupils elongated her. This next prize was a gift from a fool who crossed him and broke his rules. But to be fair, the fool had also brought him renewed vigor.
Sounds broke from deep inside him, muffled, bayingroars. He tossed his head. His mouth stretched open wider, and even more wide. A muffled snap and fiery spears darting into his brain warned him that his human jaw had dislocated. Not long now.
From his mouth, a broad, slime-coated nose and lipless jaws thrust out. They slid steadily forward and he rocked his human head, felt it fold back on itself to make way for the final, full exposure of his authentic self.
“Where are you?” the woman moaned. “Why am I here?”
As if he would tell her, the foolish creature. She had wanted too much, but she would get nothing. He would take everything away from her.
Slowly, he stepped toward her. She lay on a heap of cushions in a corner. The switch he flipped sent the cooling system into rapid mode. Icy mist curled upward and the woman shivered.
He needed to bite, but must contain himself. It was the bites that killed, not the scratches since only his teeth secreted poison.
Even if he’d been unable to see at all, he would still have known the instant when she saw him. Her breathing stopped, for a long time, before it started again, wheezing, high-pitched, punctuated with choking shrieks.
Don’t die before I can kill you, he thought .
I hate it when one of you dies from shock. I want to taste warm blood in my mouth. I want your heart to beat until the final strike.
“Oh, my God,” she whined .
Pale now, her eyes wide and staring, her mouth an ugly, stretched hole, she scarcely looked like the same woman who had come to him.
He tossed his head and bayed. And he parted the robe, let it fall.
Her scream
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