Body Count Read online

  Her beautiful, warm body…

  This prank was getting way out of hand.

  Marta could not, however, remove her eyes from his face. His coloring was lighter than his dark handsome friend’s was, and…

  Her eyes widened when the remaining color drained from his golden features. He moaned, his head slumping to the side.

  “All right. What happened to him? Why is he so pale?”

  Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome folded his massive arms across a very nice, wide chest.

  He glanced at her badge. “That is what I need you to tell me, Dr. Phillips.”

  Grabbing a stethoscope from a nearby table, she opened Hugh’s nicely tailored white shirt and placed the end of the stethoscope on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

  Lub dub…lub dub.

  A sheen of perspiration lined his face.

  “Has he been like this long?”

  Darkly handsome approached. A tingle ran up her spine.

  “He has fed too much tonight.”

  Marta sighed. “More like drank.”

  “Drank. Fed. What does it matter? Just…help him.”

  She nodded. “Okay. This will be our little secret.”

  Maximillian’s eyes lit up.

  “I won’t tell Dr. Clayton, and your friend can sleep it off here.”

  Maximillian sank into a chair.

  “Je vous remercie, Cherie. Je vous promets que vous ne regretterez pas.

  Rolling her eyes, she replied. “On the contrary, I have a feeling I’m going to regret it big time.”

  * * * *

  Minutes later, Marta tried to wake Hugh. He didn’t budge.

  “Will you bleed him?”

  She glanced at Maximillian and snorted. “We may be out in the boondocks here, but we’re certainly not in the dark ages.”

  Maximillian slumped into a chair. “Then what will you do?”

  Hugh opened his eyes and gave her a lopsided grin.

  He resembled a naughty boy.

  Cripes, she was really losing it.

  Maximillian raised one dark brow. “That is what the last doctor did. Took his blood. You should, too, and you will see that we are not…how do you say…normal?”

  They’re probably gay. All the good-looking men are gay.

  Damn but her thoughts were straying.

  “Fine.” She nodded, noticing that Hugh’s face didn’t appear so ashen. Maybe the effects of the alcohol were starting to wear off. “I’ll play along. If you want me to take a sample of his blood, I will.”

  Grabbing a needle from the cabinet, she rolled up Hugh’s sleeve and tied a thin rubber tube around his upper arm. Finding a ready vein, she inserted the tip of the needle, jabbing it into his arm.

  “Ow!” he groaned. His hazel eyes darkened to a deep green. Growling low in his throat, he pulled her onto the couch next to him. Wrapping an arm around her neck, he tugged her down until they were nose-to-nose. “You will pay for that, médecin.”

  He released his grip.

  Marta swore she could feel the energy drain from his body when his head slumped back onto the cushion.

  “Just let her do it, Hugh. She will see for herself.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed Maximillian’s face, how it clouded with anger. He rose to his feet and paced. Running a hand through his hair, he said, “You have one of those machines? A microscope?”

  Marta rolled her eyes.

  He was by her side in a flash.

  “You roll your eyes at me again, cherie, and I may have to seek revenge.” He tipped her head back with one, long finger placed under her chin.

  Marta felt his touch clear down to her toes.

  Sandwiched between these two gorgeous hunks dressed in their long, black coats, dark leather pants, elegant white shirts and black leather boots, her hormones responded, making her clit pulse.

  Staring directly into Maximillian’s almost-black eyes, she replied, “I could call the police and have the two of you arrested for trespassing and body snatching.”

  “We took no bodies!” Maximillian said through gritted teeth.

  “Let me up.” She shoved him away.

  He relented, moving so that she could rise to her feet, a tube of Hugh’s blood in her hand.

  Maximillian followed her to the counter laden with lab equipment. His eyes lit up when he noticed a hand floating in a jar of clear liquid.

  She snorted. “Most people would be repulsed.”

  “Hugh and I are not most people, cherie. Go on, place that blood sample in your machine and you will see what I mean.”

  She lifted her eyes for a second then went back to preparing the slide for the microscope.

  Maximillian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. “Don’t try it.”

  “What?” She asked, placing the small piece of glass containing Hugh’s blood on the microscope’s flat stage, clipping the specimen glass in place so it wouldn’t slide.

  “Don’t roll those beaux yeux bleus at me again,” he said softly, his dark eyes bright. “You have no idea what I would like to do.”

  He took a step closer. He smelled of the night, of the damp earth, a heady musky aroma. Marta’s French kicked in again, realizing that he said her eyes were blue and…

  Beautiful.

  She didn’t know how she managed to remain erect.

  Leaning over the microscope, she looked into the eyepiece lens. Focusing on the sample of blood, she frowned. Adjusting the magnification, she looked at the smear of Hugh’s blood again…

  Her eyes widened.

  “Ah!” Maximillian nodded. “So you see it, too. I knew you would.”

  She bent over the microscope again.

  “Th-is is impossible.” Her voice shook. “His blood cells are mutated. I-I’ve never seen anything like this before. They are continually splitting, growing and…” She frowned and sat back on the seat. Then she glanced at Hugh. His eyes were closed.

  “He said he was hungrier.”

  Marta shot Maximillian a look. “No wonder. His blood cells are dividing and growing at a rate I’ve never seen.”

  “He feeds constantly.”

  She almost rolled her eyes, but remembered Maximillian’s threat.

  “He shouldn’t drink alcohol. Your friend could be a diabetic. It’s as if he’s not getting enough sucrose in his blood cells, and too much sugar in the blood is not good.”

  Maximillian raised both brows. “It is not for want of sucre, Marta.”

  Her name rolled off his lips.

  Nice lips, she thought. Full. Generous.

  Stop!

  “Then what?”

  Maximillian shook his head. “He needs more blood.”

  * * * *

  “Look,” she backed away from Maximillian, her knees hitting the couch where Hugh rested, his face pale. “I-I’ve had just about enough. The joke is getting stale.”

  Maximillian approached, his stance wide and purposeful. “It is no joke, cherie. We must get Hugh back out to that field and find a body for him to feed on.”

  She held up a hand. “Enough! Stop it already. I’m not taking you back out to that field.” Marta’s legs felt shaky. “Get out of here. Take your cousin a-and go.”

  “We go nowhere without you. And we can’t waste anymore time.” Maximillian’s voice held a desperate note. “I have thought about what you said. We get Hugh more blood now, and then in a little while, he can feed again.”

  She groaned. “You just don’t know when to give up.”

  “I never give up on my family.”

  “If you leave now, I won’t call the police. We’ll just forget about all of this.”

  “And if he doesn’t get blood, he will perish.”

  Marta glanced at Hugh. “What are you going to tell me next, that you’re both vampires?”

  “If only it were that easy, cherie.”

  Maximillian walked over to Hugh. Marta’s eyes opened wide when he lifted Hugh and
slung him over his shoulder.

  Like he was a sack of flour…

  As though he weighed nothing.

  “We are night feeders, drinking the blood of the newly-dead. We do not harm the living.”

  Marta glanced at Maximillian’s mouth, his fangs visible.

  “H-how do you do that?” she whispered. She placed a hand on her neck.

  “Anxiety. Fear. Need. When it is time to feed. All these things make our fangs protrude.”

  She let go of the breath she held. “I-it’s a trick. It has to be.”

  “It is no trick, Marta.” His voice held sensual, deep notes, laced with urgency. “Please,” he implored. “Show me where another body is so that I can ease Hugh’s suffering. He must feed. You’re a doctor. A physician is dedicated to saving lives, no?”

  She was out of her mind to even consider helping them.

  Maybe all this work with the dead…maybe being alone out on the body farm all this time…

  Being without a man…

  …had finally gotten to her.

  Or maybe this was all a nightmare.

  Hugh moaned, his eyes opening then rolling back in his head.

  “Let’s go.”

  She led the way into the darkened field beyond the farmhouse, the full moon their only guide that Halloween night.

  * * * *

  That night, Marta watched Hugh feed on a fresh corpse, her reaction a mixture of fascination, curiosity and…repulsion.

  When she saw that he intended to gorge on the dead man’s blood, she shooed him away.

  “That’s what got you sick. Take in small amounts of blood. Then you can feed again in a little while.”

  Yeah, she was totally losing it. Helping a madman to feed on her precious dead bodies!

  What would Dr. Clayton say if he knew what she was doing?

  He’d fire her ass in a heartbeat. She’d wind up in jail along with these two…

  Monsters.

  Marta shook her head to clear it. Never in all her life had she seen blood cells as mutated and quick to reproduce as Hugh’s were.

  Hugh.

  God, he was gorgeous!

  The full moon illuminated him, his golden hair and skin bathed in soft light.

  She felt a stirring in her nether region, her panties growing moist as she watched him tip back his head to allow blood to flow down his throat.

  A tiny, perverse part of her was glad to see that he was able to feed, that he did look better…

  You’re looney tunes, Marta. You need a man—one that does not feed on dead bodies—quick.

  Maximillian helped Hugh to sit on a tree stump near the corpse.

  She glanced at her watch. “We’ll let him feed in another two hours. Right now, I want him to rest.”

  Maximillian nodded. “I will bring him to the gristmill.”

  She raised a brow. “That’s where you’re staying?”

  “We own it, cherie. I bought it just a few days ago.”

  She angled her head. “You’re not going back there.”

  Maximillian raised a brow. “Non? Then where?”

  Marta folded her arms across her breasts, tightening her hold when she saw Maximillian’s eyes stray there. She’d heard the term ‘being undressed with his eyes’ all her life, but never knew the full meaning until she felt Maximillian’s heated gaze on her body.

  Another little part of her felt like preening for him.

  Idiot! Get down to business.

  “You’re going to both stay with me. At the lab.

  Maximillian shook his head.

  “Yes. You are.” Marta took a few steps toward him, amazed at her own bravado, wondering why she didn’t run like hell. “It’s either that, or I call the police. Your choice.”

  Maximillian’s face tightened into hard, angry lines.

  “She has us there, cousin.” Hugh reached out then dropped his hand.

  Marta felt the heat of his golden stare burn straight through her.

  “Our Marta is a crafty one.”

  Our Marta…

  It had a nice sound to it.

  Stop it!

  “Listen to your cousin, Maximillian. The authorities will lock you away forever. They’ll think you’re crazy. I, on the other hand, offer you a chance to feed nightly, as long as I can study the two of you.”

  “What?” Maximillian thundered.

  “Hugh sees reason, what about you?” Marta angled her chin, but her body trembled. This was her chance to make a name for herself, to come out from under her colleagues’ taunts of ‘Misplaced Marta.’ Her findings about these two ‘night feeders’ would stun the world of science.

  “He can rest comfortably at the lab. I have an attic room where you can both stay. Later, he can come back out to feed again, and I can take another sample of his blood.”

  Maximillian glanced at Hugh.

  Hugh nodded. “Whatever you say, cherie. Just remember something.”

  She raised a brow. “What?”

  His eyes glowed, their red centers prominent.

  “When the time comes, you may not rid yourself of us so easily.”

  Chapter Two

  The following day, Marta attended to her duties at the body farm, guiding her forensic pupils through their studies of decomposition.

  Every so often, she’d glance upward, toward the attic room above the lab, knowing that she held two handsome, captivating Frenchmen prisoner. For most of her life, she’d avoided any kind of relationship with a man. ‘Chubby’ is what the kids called her growing up.

  ‘Fat’ is what she considered herself.

  She glanced down at her ample thighs.

  Maybe she’d try that no-carb diet again.

  “Dr. Clayton is here.” The sound of Susan’s voice broke through Marta’s reverie.

  Marta shielded her eyes from the early November sun, watching as Timothy Clayton drove his BMW up the winding drive of the body farm.

  He got out of the car and approached, his pleasant face coming into view.

  “How goes it?”

  Marta nodded. “Just fine.”

  From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the curtains move on the inside of the attic window.

  “I stopped by because the police still haven’t found out anything about the missing bodies, Marta.”

  Yeah. That’s because there’s two monsters feeding on them…

  “Well,” she replied, hoping her voice sounded calm. “I’m sure they’re doing their best.”

  Timothy raised one sandy brow. “That’s a switch. Only last week, you had quite a bit to say about the police department’s shoddy detective work.”

  She shrugged. “I’d rather have them on my side.”

  Timothy smiled. It was a nice smile.

  Not like Hugh’s or Maximillian’s. Those were devastating grins. They lit up the night like the soft light of the harvest moon...

  When in hell did she become so fanciful?

  “How about a cup of your famous coffee?” Timothy took hold of her arm and led her toward the farmhouse.

  She quickly dislodged his grip. “I-I would, Tim, but we’ve got lots to do today here at the body farm.”

  He frowned. “Marta, are you okay?” Sighing, he reached for her hand. “I think this is all getting to you, and rightly so. Maybe you should take some time off.”

  Anger simmered inside her. “Why? So my colleagues can continue with their snide remarks like, ‘Misplaced Marta?’ No, I’m not leaving the body farm.”

  He held up a hand. “I’m just concerned about you.”

  “I appreciate it. But, right now, work is what I need.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the attic curtain dropped back in place.

  Oh, she was going to have to give Hugh and Maximillian a lecture on minding their business!

  She led Timothy down the drive. “Thanks for coming by.”

  “I’m here if you need me, Marta. Just say the word.”

  He
got into his car and drove away.

  Oh, Marta had a few words all right…

  …and she was going to say them to a couple of monsters she knew!

  * * * *

  As dusk fell that evening, Marta gazed through the lens of the microscope and shook her head.

  “Fascinating,” she murmured.

  She watched while the cells in the fresh sample of Hugh’s blood slowed their frenzied division. They seemed…satisfied. As though the more frequent, lighter feeding had enabled them to ingest more of the nutrients the human blood provided.

  Armed with this new information, she marched up the stairs to the attic, determined to give Hugh and Maximillian a piece of her mind…

  And this information.

  Why she felt she owed them anything was beyond her.

  Well, she did owe them something. Sort of. After all, her research on their ‘condition’ would make her world-famous.

  While she walked up the narrow staircase of the old farmhouse, she recalled the feel of Hugh’s lips on hers when he’d kissed her the other night. Her fingers trailed across her mouth as she relived that kiss, wondering why he called her ‘Corinne.’

  She’d give them the reprimand they deserved for spying on her earlier…

  …and this new data.

  But that was it.

  She wouldn’t allow Maximillian to trail his finger over her chin…

  …or let Hugh kiss her again.

  Or…anything else...

  Right?

  * * * *

  In the small room upstairs Maximillian paced restlessly. He stopped by Hugh’s bed and gazed down at his cousin.

  “You seem better, Hugh.”

  Hugh nodded. “Merci, cousin. I feel much stronger.”

  Maximillian drew his brows together in thought. “Then it is time we plot our escape.”

  “Where can we go? At least if we stay here, we can feed.” Hugh’s eyes turned a deep, golden green, his fangs protruding from his lower gums. Soon his irises burned with bright red intensity. “Sacre bleu! Have you ever seen so many bodies, Maximillian? And all for us.”

  “They are not all for us,” Maximillian snapped. “They are for her to study.” He swallowed. Hard. “And so are we.”

  Hugh sat up straighter in the bed. “Perhaps so, but I do not think she means us any harm.”

  “Neither did Moira.” Maximillian’s voice took on a harsh note. “Yet, she betrayed us in the end.”