Bloodlust

BLOODLUST

by

Jody R. LaGreca and Michael McCarty

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright Ó 2013 by Jody LaGreca and Michael McCarty

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-61160-395-8

Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

Editor: Jeremy Tyler

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

To Marilyn Monroe

What they are saying about Bloodlust:

I found it a diabolical touch that Michael McCarty and Co-author Jody LaGreca in their new book Bloodlust introduced legendary Marilyn Monroe into the tapestry of their horror novel. From the moment Monroe enters the early scenes of this strangely compelling novel to the final seconds when we find ourselves following the quiet movements of a black cat names Midnight. I predict you will be unable to put down Bloodlust. That’s right, until you see it through to its very end. In a strange and mysterious way I have found my appetite increasing for their brilliant entree into vampires.

-- The Amazing Kreskin, Worlds Foremost Mentalist

Part One: Clash By Night

When Twilight draws her curtain

And pins it with a star

I will think of you dear Marilyn

Where ever you are

—Twilight by Michael McCarty

Movie star, goddess, forever young,

Marilyn reigns in the hearts of men.

Her beauty is beyond compare, fragile

And vulnerable to the vampire’s snare.

—Goddess Beyond Compare by Jody R. LaGreca

Chapter 1

Acting Class Circa 1955

Marilyn Monroe woke up groggy and out of sorts. She felt like a caricature of the billboard of her advertising Billy Wilder’s The Seven Year Itch above the Loew’s State Theater on 45th Street and Broadway. The one with a hot gust of air blowing upward from the subway grating, causing her dress to rise around her thighs as her face radiated with joy. She dragged herself out of bed and looked at the clock, seeing she had overslept. Remembering her acting teacher’s strictness about being punctual made her all the more anxious.

She stretched and looked out the window from the Gladstone Hotel on 52nd Street to be greeted by the New York City landscape of buildings and cement, with a few trees intermingled in the mix. She yearned for flowers and fresh air, not the stifling air of Manhattan, yet this was a Mecca for the actress in her. The bright lights of evening in the city made up for it, but at present, the bright light of her dressing table offered the sight of a fitful night’s sleep.

No time to fuss, Marilyn grabbed a quick cup of instant coffee and tied a scarf around her blond crown of glory. She dressed hurriedly and left the apartment, donning large sunglasses and no makeup. Being incognito suited her well, and this was how she preferred it.

Marilyn scrambled down the block beneath the gray sky, which looked like rain would be imminent. Thankfully, she arrived at the Malin Studio on 46th Street just before they closed the doors. She inconspicuously found her way to the back of the dingy room and took a seat in the last row as usual. Nonetheless, a sea of eyes turned around to look; everyone knew she was the movie star, Marilyn Monroe, in spite of her disguise. Her breathy voice and mannerisms whenever she participated had given her away from the start. In fact, the aspiring actors and actresses in the class had much admiration for her accomplishments, and hoped some of her magic would rub off on them merely by looking at her.

The acting teacher went to the center of the room and explained how they were going to do an exercise, focusing on sense memory. Marilyn watched the others who went before her to no avail. Her heart began to fill with melancholy. Marilyn’s memories of feeling alone and abandoned were so painful, yet she could not deny they remained the pinnacle of her inspiration to act. Whenever she expressed her heart it felt like a catharsis, which released her from her inner sadness for a respite. Though in the end her sorrow always seemed to spiral out of control and get the better of her.

Then it was Marilyn’s turn to take the floor in front of the other students who always enjoyed watching her. Her beauty, even in its downplayed state, still surpassed the attractiveness of most women. Marilyn was asked to remember a moment in her life with the focus of the recollection on her clothing, combined with the sight and smells of the memory. Marilyn remembered a room with white walls and dark furniture and being alone in it a few years before, and how isolated she felt.

She bowed her head a bit before she began to speak in her tiny voice. I felt so abandoned in the room I’m remembering; how lonely it felt, and like I didn’t have a friend in the world. Then this man walked in, and he didn’t even register at the moment. He was my date, yet I felt so disconnected to him, I couldn’t even remember his name for a second.

The teacher cut in with a peeved expression. Don’t do that! Just tell us what you see and smell, not what you feel! This is a sensory exercise not a melodrama.

Flustered, Marilyn tried to regroup her thoughts, yet the admonishment brought tears to her eyes. She tried to focus again, but it remained very difficult for her to separate her emotions from the physical aspects of the room and her clothing. I…I was wearing a white sweater and a pair of black slacks and black heels, she said in a tremulous voice, with tears streaming down her face.

Now that the tears had begun, like a broken damn they kept flowing. Marilyn tried to recall the words she heard from William Land, the man she dated a few times, but her sobbing prevented her from continuing. She just stood there for a moment feeling exposed and stupefied as the real Marilyn came out, a shy and insecure woman of twenty-nine years old. With her head held down she found her way back to her seat, yet she could not concentrate on anything else. All she knew was as much as she enjoyed acting, it was equally a curse since it made her face the demons that long plagued her and there was no conquering them with pretense.

She looked down at her hands and wished she had re-polished her fingernails at least, regretting the chips that were all the more obvious in red. Marilyn felt like such a fraud at this moment. Her celebrity status and famous movie titles, like The Seven Year Itch, How to Marry a Millionaire, and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was not who she really was, just a fantasy of her, like a storybook character. The real Marilyn was wearing a scarf without make-up and had just made a total fool of herself; the only itch she had now was to get out of the class.

Marilyn noticed her classmate, Daniel Peck, sneak a peek at her. He was a mild mannered man who always wore a black shirt. Marilyn just looked away, not wanting to get too familiar with anyone in the class. Marilyn just wanted to keep to herself, though for some reason when Daniel looked over at her again Marilyn found herself riveted to his face. He had a smirk on his lips, which made her feel like they had just shared a secret joke. She could feel it coming on her when she broke out into a smile, in spite of herself. She had to admit it; it felt good to smile. Genuinely good.

When the class ended, the students lingered around a bit, as usual. But Marilyn made a beeline for the door, only to end up toe-to-toe with Daniel.

Hey, he said while in motion. How would you like to go for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat? I know a nice little café down the block.

Marilyn could certainly use a pick-me-up, though not a pick-up. Nonetheless, Daniel looked harmless; he kept to himself as well. It also didn’t hurt that he was wearing a black cap, which gave him a Parisian air. Marilyn loved anything French, including French Fries.

Okay, sure, she replied and watched his dark eyes light up like a bonfire, smoldering with interest.

As soon as they hit the avenue it had already begun to drizzle a bit. Daniel put his arm in the crux of hers and led her down the block at a brisk pace until they arrived at Luxe Café. Daniel looked like quite the gentleman opening the door for her, wearing a black trench coat. They were led to a table situated in an alcove on the right hand side near the window where they were granted the vision of New Yorkers fleeing down the street, anxious to get out of the imminent rain.

The café had a charming atmosphere of small tables and booths with tiffany lamps hanging overhead in amber tones and a lit fireplace in the back of the dining room.

They have a really good lunch menu if you’re hungry, Daniel said.

He eyed the menu with staged interest, knowing the only thing on his mind was getting a taste of Marilyn’s blood. It rose up from her persona in a heady fragrance, like mother earth, mixed with the scent of Jungle Gardenia for just the right type of fruitiness. He had smelled her from afar for over a month. Now that they were seated at the same table, the fragrance enveloped his nostrils with a singularity of thought. His hunger began to rise in his chest, which made it hard for him to concentrate on what he knew he had to do to get what he desired.

Marilyn scanned the lunch menu. A grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee sound good.

Great, for me I like the tomato soup, Daniel said, with a craving for something rich and red, as a substitute for the real thing her presence tormented him with.

They soon ordered their lunch. You know the teacher was really hard on you today. I’m really sorry he made you cry. Daniel looked at her earnestly.

Thanks, it’s not his fault though. I should have just done what he said. I don’t know why I have such a hard time with my emotions. As an actress I know I should control them, but somehow they always seem to control me.

I know what you mean. Sometimes I wonder if I am the master of my emotions or if my emotions master me, he said, gazing at her candidly.

I like that, it’s very poetic.

Thank you, poetry flows through my veins; if you only knew, he said and smirked cagily. I wouldn’t give all this any mind. You’re a great actress, and you have proof of it, so I wouldn’t worry about these silly little exercises, they really don’t do much good.

You don’t find them helpful? Marilyn asked; her food arrived and she dug into her grilled cheese with gusto.

No, they don’t do much. I haven’t been able to land any acting jobs using those techniques, Daniel said, taking a spoonful of soup.

You mean you’ve auditioned?

Yeah, for a couple of commercials, Daniel answered. The truth was the acting lessons helped him to be more persuasive in seducing women, and getting what he needed from them. It also provided him the opportunity to be in the proximity of starlets.

What kind of commercials? Marilyn asked with wide eyed interest.

For…razor blades, Daniel bluffed. The thought of taking out his trusty razor and making a nice slit on her neck for bloodletting made his entire body become enlivened.

I think you would be great for razor blade commercials! Marilyn exclaimed, admiring his rugged ambiance.

Thanks for your belief in me, Daniel said; his eyes seared into hers for a moment.

The way he looked at her was so intense; Marilyn felt her blood rise to her face, which made her flush uncomfortably. She didn’t know what it was about him, but Daniel looked at her like he really saw her and cared about her. This was something she needed desperately, though she remained uncertain as to what his intentions were. She did not want to be bedded and then tossed aside like an object. To her, being in love was serious business.

Do you have a boyfriend? Daniel asked with a leering glance.

Marilyn squirmed uncomfortably. I’m not sure, Marilyn answered with thoughts about her movie director with whom she had had an affair.

Well, I’m sure I don’t have a girlfriend, and boy would I like to have one as pretty and sweet as you. Daniel reached forward for her hand and touched it for a moment. It sent a cold spark throughout her body.

Your hand is ice cold, she said with an equivocal expression.

You know what they say, ‘cold hand warm heart,’ Daniel said and smirked endearingly.

In that case the teacher’s hands are probably as hot as fire. Boy, did he ever make me feel inept today, Marilyn said with bowed shoulders as the ordeal of her acting presentation rolled in her head like an ill-fated movie screen.

Don’t worry about it, Daniel said with a comforting pat on her arm. Every actor has to find their own way. He had no right to reprimand you. You know one of the hardest things for an actor to do is cry…and you had it down pat.

Marilyn giggled in her famous way, beaming like a starlet the whole world would grow to love. You know what? she asked with mischief in her eyes.

What? Daniel asked, moving in closer. Her blood scent bathed him in yearning, though his face remained neutral.

The only thing was I didn’t want to cry, I never want to cry, but I just can’t help myself sometimes, life is so unfair, she said, pouting like a child.

Well, you never have to worry about that, because now you have a shoulder to cry on. That’s right, if you ever have the urge to cry, just call me up and I’ll come running over…so you can cry on my shoulder.

Marilyn cocked her head backward, though the black scarf tied around her head made her look a bit staid. You would do that for me? she asked with wide-eyed surprise, looking genuinely touched.

Daniel went into his pocket for a business card he had made up for the acting class. It had his name, phone number, and the word Actor embossed in gold.

Marilyn looked at it with awe. Oh how beautiful, she said, touching