Prey Shares

Her mouth was cold, and she longed for the warmth of an anthropoid crimson to warm her.

After finishing the document, she left it in the print queue for her personal assistant and switched off her laptop. Walking past her personal assistant's desk, she stuck a post-it note there so she could print and send the letter in the morning. She went beyond the security barrier.

A street light highlighted her pale complexion, as she caused a shadow in its path and slipped into the embrace of the night. Distance noises of homeward-bound traffic echoed with car horns beeping. People wanted food in their warm, cosy homes around the family dinner table.

But she wanted to dine alfresco in the London air. The unmistakable sweet, warm scent of human prey raised the hunter's hairs on the back of her neck. Sliding up scaffolding to stalk her prey, her sharp eyes underscored the warmth of the vein that pumps the flowing human crimson she sought. Only the moment the sweet, thick liquid flowed down her throat could she taste anything at all. Or feel warm and alive. Food was warm ash and embraces sexual or friendship felt like a tepid tea bag on a winter morning. Utterly useless and unwanted to her.

Her melody filled the mind of her prey. Her crew waited up high to dispose of the body. The woman in high heels as a prey knew to run, but fresh rain made it impossible for her to remove her shoes and flee in bare feet.

"Hello, a pleasant night for alfresco dinner, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know I haven't anyone to dine with."

The vampire Le Claire quickly moved to be in front of her prey, "You have me to dine with," she moved closer to absorb the rich terror that the prey felt, "unfortunate that you will not be eating tonight, as you are my feast."

Lifeless eyes stared at the closed shop as the fresh puncture wounds showed blood. Dark red blood trickled down her pale, smooth flesh.

Wiping a satisfying drip of life nectar from her bottom lip, Le Claire felt the heartbeat of the prey again. The prey made a weak sound. She blinked coughing to suck in the air, whispering, "Wait, don't kill me, but flow your spirit into me one in four weeks a month so you can taste all the food again. Relish fine cuisine and consume everything you want to devour as fresh experiences."

"I can do that anyway," Le Claire smirked, crouching down to smell an added fragrance to the blood of the prey.

A police siren went off nearby, and Le Claire’s clean-up crew swooped in to remove the prey to a waiting nearby limousine with blacked windows.

"Yeah Sarg, we received a report from a member of the public in the flats that some high heeled lady with great legs had been attacked by blood a sucker. The fourth this week. Yes, Sarg looks like a serial killer or copycat. No Sarg, no lady is there, but a shoe is here and a gold chain with Jules on it. Yes Sarg, I will hang about to find witnesses. There's a big old-fashioned limo opposite me, so I'll check it out first. Yep night Sarg.”

In the back of the limousine, the prey, usually known as Jules, still wonders if she had the strength to run. Then she realised she had one shoe on.

"Don't kill me," Jules stammered. She was freezing, and the cold car didn't help.

"Put on the heating to warm up the prey. It would be handy to snack on later." Smirked Le Claire.

"As you wish Madam," the driver replied, "Will you have a guest to stay Madam?"

Le Claire nodded her head and her limousine rolled away with a low engine hum.

The police officer looked across the road at the limousine to take a photo with his phone of the car registration.

Once out of sight of the police officer, Le Claire gave instructions: "Roll the plate weevers, order my bath and a bag-snack for home."

"Yes, Madam, and the same for your guest?"

"Clean her, but Protocol Two Weevers."

"Understood Madam." Weever's expressionless face moved to an eerie grimace and returned to poker face again. Weevers leaned forward to check that no police surveillance was clocking them. Then, he pressed a star button, which rolled the car number plate to another set.

Too weak to move, yet Jule's little finger flicked her ring until the gem turned red. A flush of energy rushed through her veins.

Le Claire found her senses intoxicated with an aurora of purple that engulfed her senses. "Protocol seven Weevers... now."

Weevers stretched his arm behind him, and a needle thrust into Jules vein. The dark interior returned to its original grave-cold ambience, without the sweet purple siren scent.

Stepping out of the limousine, Le Claire looked like a retired model. High cheekbones, long legs and a slender waist with a smooth, fluid way of walking. Although she was two hundred and thirty years old and an ex-ballerina, her practised pose was obvious.

"Bring my guest in assisted, as she has already fallen asleep," Le Claire said in the open street, so the police could hear: "Jenkins, my bath is ready with my claret by my tub, right?" "Oh yes Madam, always just for you Madam." Jenkins sighed with eyes of admiration for Le Claire, the owner she served since Le Claire made Jenkins a vampire. Jenkins' plain black maid uniform and boring sensible lace-up shoes showed her only focus was her Mistress, Le Claire.

She slid into her hot rose-scented bath and sighed. Juliet Le Claire, a former prima ballerina of the French Académie d'Opéra, whose admirer and sponsor was creative King Louis XIV, had moved from Paris when King Louis was dethroned. Le Claire supped at the exquisite claret of full aristocratic blood that Jenkins had a special supply of. Its exquisite bouquet made Le Claire feel beautiful and elegant for the night.

Count Miroslav was a grateful Count of Old Slovenia. He ate only fine cuisine, but was a hybrid of half vampire and half human. Unusual that his mother was a human princess, and his father was a Count, the Count Miroslav of past sordid tales of intrigue and debauchery. Count Miroslav Fenring adored Le Claire and gave his annual tithe of blood as a thank you for lavishing her Swish bank account on him. A creative with a minor speech impediment, a hum written in a book of nobles in the twelfth century. Count Miroslave became a recluse as each new age dawned. Le Claire found him hiding in the depths of a tumbled palace. All skin and bones, as well as old aristocratic clothes in tatters. After a hundred years of intravenous blood, the Count was himself and saw Le Claire as his angel in disguise.

Refreshed by the Count's lavish tithe and soothed by the bath, Le Claire visited her chained guest. Down to her expensive underwear and cold on a marble floor, she was crumpled into dark loneliness like a discarded doll.

"Tell me again why I need you alive prey," Jeered Le Claire, stepping closer to her prey, wrapped in a warm black and vivid red satin bath robe and matching slippers. Every inch of Le Claire is stylish.

Jules raised her sad, bruised face to look at Le Claire in the eyes.

A strong hand had Jules by the throat, and her feet dangled in the air. "I didn't say look at me." Le Claire hissed, dropping Jules, her unwanted rag doll, on the playroom floor.

Jules rubbed her ring, so it turned red. "I change the pace of this game, not you." Jules whispered, her eyes flashing with a new strength.

They fought against each other while thudding against the fine masonry of the Regency ballroom. Fine candlelight flickered as they fought on equal terms.

The stone of the red gem flickered and returned to pale grey. Jules flopped into kneeling position.

Le Claire was ready to talk. She agreed to one week in Jules' body for the payment of one million UK pounds. With three weeks in which Jules returned to her own body to enjoy a better lifestyle of travel and fine dining. Le Claire would find her wherever she was. To ensure the mutual agreement remained active, Le Claire had two almost identical watches made. When it was Le Claire's turn to hire the body, the alarm on both watches went off.

Then a disabling injection would neutralise Jules from moving from where she was. Claire's staff would be next to Jules to ensure her needs were met, so she had the high flying life experience she sought. Officially, Jules was a long-lost cousin whose validity claims were examined by DNA tests and a lawyer.

This gave Le Claire a get out clause if the body-hire soured.

With the lawyer arriving in the morning to draw up a carefully worded legal document, Jules was to be ward of Le Claire. “I will give your allowance for one week of use into a swish bank account with me as the benefactor and you as my ward. You may spend up to the value in that bank account and you cannot lend money or buy shares in any risky ventures. Weaves cousin Blake will be your guide and lawyer. I want your body in two days time which gives my medical team time to give you a full medical starting today. Including if you can have children. As I may wish to have a child. My legal team have a sixty four page legal document for you to read. It explains what you can’t do. Namely you cannot ruin your body in any way to prevent me from enjoying renting it. Penalties include turning you into a vampire and burying you alive with Scorpions to bite you and a medical team to continually revive you and repeat. I have a long memory so do not upset me in any way at all.”

Jules sighed, hung her head, and nodded, "Will I know when you are in my body?"

"If you behave, I will give you a week-long matrix dream of beauty and peace, or whatever you are looking for at the time. If you try my patience, you will have a week of torment, where I will find your worst fear and repeat it in your head while you are trapped in it."

“Why do you think I am victim in all this? Why do you believe you have the upper hand?”

“Ah, your ancient Siren ring gives you bold moves. What if I hide it, and when I return to your body, you are weak little you.”

"Never mind, just know that when you are in my body, you cannot ever remove the ring," Jules smiles, looking into her hunter's black cold eyes.

A knock on the white regency door interrupted their verbal parry: "Enter." Le Claire looked at the opening door, and two nurses with broad shoulders and thick waists stomped in. Hard brown eyes and shaved hair. They spoke with broad Czech accents and wished the guest would come with them for medical examination.

Le Claire smiled as these two would enjoy making Jules suffer for her impudence, and would have her grateful to be fully clothed again in two days. Vampires who relished torture were common, but these two were excellent at what they did.

Le Claire drank a crystal wine glass of Count Miroslav's Claret aristocratic blood for breakfast to start her day. Le Claire gave in her notice where she worked. She wrote a letter to Human Resources explaining that she had decided to take all her holiday leave in money, which she had not taken for twenty years. This meant the company owed her a huge lump sum.

"Madame Le Claire, please explain why you want to leave us so suddenly," Miss Joy asked her during Le Claire's exit interview.

“Last night, my lawyer confirmed my ward is indeed lost family, so I intend to devote plenty of time to her. Yesterday, after I arrived at six in the morning, I left at eight that evening. My ward needs my full attention, and this company will not be anymore."

"Mr. Seer wants to offer you the same salary where you come to the office for three days a month. I know you have known each other for twenty years, but this offer is unheard of anywhere I have ever worked Madame Le Claire.”

Le Claire had turned Mr. Seer into her vampire simp shortly after she joined, so she knew he would pay anything to still see her. Le Claire agreed and signed her new lucrative part-time job, and left the building blowing a kiss to Mr. Seer.

He received it with joy and called his personal assistant to have an extended lunch and enjoy it on his company credit card.

Le Claire received a text message: "Madam, your ward has been evaluated and is ready for your attention." Le Claire laughed out loud at the expression that Jules would have. Uncomfortable mind probing sessions with mental torture. Then long baths in asses milk to soften the skin, followed by a hard deep tissue massage that left bruising. Those two thorough nurses would knead her like bread dough to soften her up for Le Claire to soothe and refresh in fine clothes from Paris.

As an injured bird scared of touch, a bandaged prey sat neat and tidy in a grey and white dress with grey and white pumps. To cover her body bruises, the dress Jules wore had long sleeves and gloves.

"Use your ring to heal yourself before we fly in my private jet to Paris. Remember to behave. My good girl gets treated well.”

“Yes Madame Le Claire.” Jules replied quickly, looking at the floor.

“Do that now, and have your dinner on a tray in your personal dining room tonight, made by Chef Robért.”

Jules nodded and touched her ring, and the gem flushed red. Her tear stained eyes filled with sparkle, and her flat hair expanded into lush locks cascading down her shoulders. Her lips flat and puffy smoothed and plumped themselves. Jules sighed and leaned forward, fidgeting in her chair as the bruises disappeared under her clothes.

A loud sound above frightened Jules, and she tried to hide under a nearby sofa, with her feet poking out at the end.

"It's a helicopter to take us shopping, Jules comes here. Your full assessment by my nurses is now complete." Le Claire smiled like the cat who had the cream, because she relished the suffering Jules went through.

The suffering was to remind Jules that they were not equal, and Le Claire had the upper hand in every situation with her global contacts of more than two hundred years. After soothing Jules all over Paris with new lingerie, jewels, stockings and outerwear, Jules began to chatter with excitement about her new life without poverty. She had become a simp of Le Clare.

Swapping her body for at least a week would be easy for Le Claire. Jules's mind would have the Paris shopping trip replayed for a year or two until that lush hair and full lips began to fade.

Then Le Claire would prompt Jules to use her Siren ring.

Dressed in her finest day jewels, Le Claire entered the café Royal for a private party where she danced with Count Miroslav. They ate soft, fragrant Russian caviar and spoke of children. Le Clair found food exploded with passion around her renewed taste buds. Each lick and sup made Le Claire reminisce of dear King Louis and his beautiful banquets.

Le Claire had no restrictions on her opulence and spent six months travelling the world sampling every cuisine she could dream of. The Count clung to her elbow as he hummed and spoke, simping on her every move with over-the-top praise.

Missing her sadistic ways, Le Claire returned to her regency home in London to release Jules from her Paris-repeat-on-a-loop shopping trip. On the scales, Le Claire had put on four stone and her face was bloated. “I decided to check in on you further before I go to bed tonight.” Lied Le Claire.

Jules struggled to sit up as her stomach had puffed up.

 "I suppose the assessment yesterday took its toll?" Jule's sweet smile fell, ”Have you got my body pregnant? You agreed we would talk about it first, "Jules protested.

"Now Jules, use your ring and everything will be fine." A blue light filled the ring and moved to cover Jules' body, bringing it back to its former slender form.

Le Claire hugged Jules and cackled as she hatched her new annual long plan.