Chapter 17: The Maker's Return
They came out of the pines at the forest edge, hands still smeared with dirt, the cold air pulling the heat of the feeds off their skin. The east gate stood open ahead, floodlights burning yellow over the empty road. Chloe's stomach had that quiet, full feeling that came after a good hunt, and beside her, Jessica walked loose and easy, the last blood drying on her chin.
Chloe stopped. The scent hit her before she saw anything. Vampyr, old and cold and unmistakable, layered with the clean sting of night air and something else. Something familiar.
"Chloe?" Jessica's hand found her arm.
The shadow detached itself from the lamppost at the gate and stepped into the light. Alisha Parker, coat open over her blouse, hair loose and dark against her shoulders. A smile sat on her mouth, slow and knowing.
"Thought I'd find you out here," Alisha said. "The hunter returns."
Chloe went up to her, and Alisha caught her by the hips and pulled her in. The kiss was cold and quick, barely a press of lips before Alisha pulled back and looked past Chloe's shoulder at Jessica.
"You kept her fed."
"Yes, ma'am."
Alisha laughed. "Ma'am. I like that." She looked Jessica up and down, at the dried blood on her skin, the dirt ground into her knees, the dark shine of her thighs. "How was the first night?"
"Good." Jessica's voice was steadier now, almost light. "We did it twice. Two of them. Both buried deep."
"Deep enough?"
"Four feet.",
Alisha's smile widened and she turned her attention back to Chloe. "You taught her well. They smelled the trees and knew what they were doing."
"We left the lamppost light on," Chloe said. "Covered the track."
Alisha put her hand on the back of Chloe's neck and drew her in close. She was still wearing the coat from the library, and she smelled of the basement, of dust and old paper and the lingering trace of the girl she'd drained on the carpet. Her thumb stroked the skin behind Chloe's ear for a second.
"Come on," she said. "Before the sky thinks about changing."
They moved across the quad together, three shadows under the floodlights. The library rose ahead of them, black glass and stone, and the side door that Agnes used was unlocked. They went through the stacks in the dark, past the empty desks and the glowing EXIT signs, down the narrow stairs to the basement.
The door at the bottom opened before Alisha could knock.
Agnes stood on the other side in the light of the single hanging bulb, her long black dress pooling around her feet. Her pale grey eyes moved over all three of them, and she smiled with her fangs down, slow and satisfied.
"You brought them back." She looked at Jessica and inclined her head. "New one. You smell like the forest."
"Agnes," Alisha said. "You're up late."
"I heard you coming down the stairs." Agnes stepped back from the door and motioned them inside. The basement room was warm and close, the furnace ticking at the far wall. "Sit. You have the whole night still."
They came in, and the door closed behind them. Alisha loosened her coat and dropped it on a chair. Jessica stood in the middle of the room looking around at the shelves of files and boxes, the old leather chair, the low cot in the corner with its rumpled blanket.
"This is where you live?" she said.
"Work," Agnes said. "I sleep elsewhere."
Alisha settled on the cot and pulled Chloe down beside her. Her hand found Chloe's thigh and squeezed through the denim, a slow possessive pressure. Chloe leaned into her, and the smell of her maker filled her head.
"You did good tonight," Alisha said under her breath. "I smelled nurse's blood on you when you landed. And the greenhouse one. I didn't think you'd take two."
"Jessica's a fast learner."
"So I see." Alisha's fingers slid up Chloe's thigh, hooking into the edge of her jeans. "And the sky's getting light."
Alisha's hand pressed flat between Chloe's legs, and Chloe bit her lip. Beside them, Agnes was moving toward the far wall, past the filing cabinets, to a door Chloe hadn't noticed before. It was iron, set flush into the stone, with a wheel in the center like a ship's hatch.
"This way," Agnes said. "If you're done with each other for the moment."
Alisha pulled her hand back and stood. Chloe followed, her thighs still warm from the pressure of her maker's palm. Jessica brought up the rear.
Agnes turned the wheel, and the iron door swung open on silent hinges. The room beyond was lit by candles in iron brackets along the walls, low and orange, and the air smelled of cedar and old wood polish. Along both walls stood a row of coffins, dark wood with brass fittings, each one polished to a deep glow. Some were plain and new. One at the far end was ornate, carved with roses and vine patterns, its lid inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
"Mine," Agnes said, nodding at the ornate one. She stepped inside and ran her hand along its edge. "I had it made when I took the position here. Took six months to build. The carpenter thought it was a joke."
"Jesus," Chloe breathed.
The room held six coffins in total, lined up like beds in a dormitory, each one with a thin mattress and a pillow and a neat stack of blankets at the foot. The lids were open on five of them.
"Pick any one you like," Agnes said. "The one by the window's mine."
The candles guttered in the iron brackets as Jessica's fingers found Chloe's zipper. The sound of it going down was loud in the quiet room, brass teeth parting under her thumb. Chloe's breath caught. They were standing in the middle of the coffin room with Agnes watching from her own ornate box and Alisha leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, a slow smile on her mouth.
"No one said bedtime was a race," Alisha said.
Jessica didn't answer. She pulled Chloe's jeans down her hips and Chloe stepped out of them, bare from the waist down. Jessica went to her knees on the cold stone floor, her hands sliding up the inside of Chloe's thighs, and looked up at her with eyes gone wide and dark.
"If you're going to do it, do it right," Chloe said. "Don't just tease me."
Jessica ducked her head. Her mouth found Chloe's cunt through the wet sheen between her legs, flat tongue pressing in a long slow stroke from bottom to top. Chloe's hand went into Jessica's hair and held on, fingers closed in the strands, and Jessica made a low noise against her and did it again, slower.
The first lick was a taste. The second was a claim. Jessica spread Chloe's thighs wider with both hands, gripped her ass, and buried her face in the wet heat of her, tongue working in firm circles around Chloe's clit. Chloe's hips rolled forward, grinding down against her mouth, and the taste of her own fluids coated Jessica's chin and jaw.
"That's it," Alisha murmured from the wall, low and pleased. "Make her earn her coffin."
Jessica's tongue flicked hard across Chloe's clit, three quick strikes, then flat again, and Chloe's knees buckled. She caught herself on the edge of the nearest coffin, the wood smooth and cold under her palm, and held on while Jessica ate her like she was starving.
"Fuck," Chloe breathed. "Fingers. I want your fingers."
Jessica pulled back just long enough to look up, her mouth slick and red. She grinned with her fangs down, then her right hand came up from Chloe's ass and slid between her legs, two fingers pushing inside without warning. Chloe cried out, a sharp broken sound that echoed off the stone walls. Jessica worked her in a fast rhythm, the heel of her palm grinding against Chloe's clit, two fingers curling up inside her.
Then Jessica looked at her own fist, at Chloe's stretched pussy, and her eyes went wide.
"All of it," Chloe said, reading her mind. "I want all of it."
Jessica pulled her fingers out. She spat on her hand, worked it over her knuckles, and pressed her thumb against Chloe's entrance. Chloe pushed back against it, felt the burn, and moaned. Jessica gave one hard flex and her whole fist went in.
Chloe's head fell back. The stretch was white-hot and perfect, her cunt clenching around the knuckle of Jessica's fist, and she came with her mouth open on a silent scream, thighs shaking. Jessica held her fist inside her, felt every pulse around it, and started to work in and out, slow and deep.
"Move," Chloe got out. "Fuck me with it."
Jessica drove her fist deeper. The sound of it, wet and obscene, filled the coffin room. Alisha had come off the wall and was watching close now, her hand pressed between her own legs through her skirt. Agnes sat on the edge of her coffin, chin on her hand, a faint look of entertainment on her grey face.
Chloe came again. This time it took the whole room with it, her body arching, her hand tearing at the edge of the coffin, a long drawn-out moan climbing out of her throat until she was breathless and shaking.
Jessica pulled her fist out slowly, finger by finger, and Chloe slumped forward against her. Jessica caught her and held her, kissing her mouth with the taste of her own cunt still on it.
"I need you in my coffin," Chloe said. "Right now. With me."
The one by the window. Agnes had said. Chloe had already picked it in her head the moment she'd seen the cedar and brass. She pulled Jessica up, pulled her into the narrow dark space, and lay down with her back against the silk. The lid was still open above them. The candles on the far wall were burning low.
Alisha moved past them, picked the coffin two down, and climbed in without a word. Agnes crossed the room and swung her ornate lid shut behind her with a hollow, final sound.
In the dark, Chloe felt Jessica's hand close around hers and squeeze. The first grey light of dawn pressed thin at the edges of the iron door.
In the dark of the coffin, Jessica's eyes snapped open. The stillness of the room pressed in around her, heavy as earth, and through the wood and stone she heard it: voices. Female voices, coming from the basement office beyond the iron door.
She lay still, listening. Chloe's hand was slack in hers, her breathing slow and deep, the sleep of the dead. Jessica's new ears pulled the sound apart like wet paper. Two voices, low and laughing. A scrape of shoes on stone. Then the rattle of the door handle, hard and insistent, three quick shakes.
The lock held.
"Fuck," a voice said, muffled through the iron. "It's locked."
"I told you it would be," another voice answered. "The basement's always locked after hours."
Jessica stiffened. That first voice. She knew it. She had woken to it a hundred mornings in her dorm room, complaining about the heat or the syllabus or the boy in the room next door.
Veronica.
Her heart beat, one slow, cold pulse. What was Veronica doing in the library basement at dawn? Students never came down here. The staff room was off-limits, the basement door was always locked, and even the janitors had to key in.
The sounds faded. Footsteps retreating, the click of a door closing, and then silence, broken only by the low groan of the building settling.
Jessica turned her head on the pillow of the coffin. The thin grey light had begun to press around the edges of the iron door, the first ache of day pulling at her bones. She squeezed Chloe's hand.
"Chloe."
Chloe stirred, a slow groan rising from her throat. "What."
"Someone was here. In the office. They tried the door."
Chloe's eyes opened. In the dim, they glowed faintly, two embers in the dark. "Who?"
"My roommate. Veronica." Jessica's voice came out strange, half wonder, half hunger. "I don't know why she'd come down here. She doesn't even like the library."
"Did she get in?"
"No. Lock held."
Chloe was quiet for a moment. Then her hand tightened around Jessica's, and she smiled in the dark, fangs catching the last sliver of candlelight from beneath the door.
"Then she'll come back." Chloe rolled toward her, cold hand sliding over Jessica's hip, pulling her close in the narrow box. "They always come back. The ones who want something. They don't just walk away."
Jessica lay against her, her face tucked into the curve of Chloe's throat. The hunger stirred low in her gut, a slow heat that had nothing to do with warmth. She thought of Veronica: the sharp way she laughed, the way she flung her hair back when she was annoyed, the mole above her lip that she hated and Jessica had always privately loved.
"Once the sun goes down," Jessica said, "we pay her a visit."
Chloe's laugh was a low purr against her ear. "Say it again."
"Once the sun goes down, we pay Veronica a visit."
"Good girl." Chloe's hand slid down the small of Jessica's back, fingers trailing over the swell of her ass, pressing her closer. "Now sleep. She'll still be there."
Jessica closed her eyes, and the darkness of the coffin wrapped around her like a second skin. Behind her sealed lids she saw Veronica's face. And she smiled, her fangs resting on her lower lip, and let the day take her.
The last of the candlelight guttered out in the coffin room, leaving only the thin grey press of dawn around the iron door. The building settled into its bones. Somewhere above them, the first birds started.
In the coffin two down from the window, Alisha stirred.
The sensation came up from between her thighs like a slow electric current, a throb that had no business being there. She had been dreaming of the nurse's throat, the hot spill of blood across her tongue, the way Chloe had moaned against her skin. But this was not dream. This was a weight, a heat, a hardness pressing against the inside of her cream-colored skirt.
Her eyes opened in the dark.
She reached down, and her fingers closed around something she had never felt before. Thick. Warm. Standing rigid against her thigh, slick with a wetness that was already leaking down her skin. She traced it upward with her fingertips, found the ridge of the head, the sensitive slit at the top, and her breath caught in her throat.
A cock. A real, fuckable cock, growing out of the place where her clit had been. It stood maybe eight inches, thick as her wrist, flushed dark and glistening with her own arousal.
"Well, well," she whispered to the dark.
She wrapped her hand around it and pulled, slow, from base to tip. The sensation was electric, sharper than anything she had felt through her clit, a deep pulsing pleasure that traveled all the way up her spine. Her hips lifted off the silk lining of the coffin, and she did it again, faster.
The coffin was narrow. Her knees pressed against the sides as she spread her legs. She worked her hand up and down the shaft, her fingers finding a rhythm, the skin hot and tight under her palm. Her thumb ran over the crown and she bit her lip hard, her fangs dimpling the skin.
A sound escaped her, low and animal. The thought of what she could do with this, what she would do with this, filled her head like smoke. Agnes bent over the desk. Chloe on her knees. Jessica's mouth open and hungry.
She stroked faster. The pleasure built in her gut like a pressure cooker, her hips bucking against her fist. The pre-cum ran down her knuckles, slick and hot. She pressed her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes and worked herself with a single-minded need that cut through everything else.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Fuck."
She thought of the nurse dying under Jessica's mouth, of Chloe's cunt grinding against her tongue on the library carpet, of Agnes's grey eyes watching from the shadows. She thought of the moment she would push this cock into each of them, one by one, and watch their faces change when they felt it.
The orgasm hit her like a wave of fire.
Her back arched off the silk, heels digging into the wood, and she came with a long, broken moan. Cum sprayed from the head of her cock in thick white ropes, splattering across her stomach, her breasts, her thighs, the walls of the coffin. She kept stroking through it, milking every last pulse, until her hand was slick and the air smelled of sex.
She lay there, breathing hard, her cock still half-hard against her hip. The cum cooled on her skin, a sticky film over her belly. She smiled in the dark, her fangs catching the last sliver of dawn light.
Once the sun went down, she was going to show them.
All of them.
Agnes. Chloe. Jessica. She was going to walk into that office and pull her skirt up and let them look at her. And then she was going to find out exactly how it felt to bury herself inside a woman with her own cock.
She closed her eyes. The smile stayed on her lips as the day took her, and her hand curled around the softening shaft like a promise kept warm.