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Tainted Blood (Les Histoires de Le Vampire Marquis de Sade Book 4) Now she will vent her rage through an innocent who was also one of Sade's victims.
Table of contents

I went to the house where you once lived. The house has been sold to a young couple with an infant.

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They bought the place months ago from an elderly man. A broken man, they said. A man that they were sure looked far older than his true years. He sold at a low price, saying that he wanted the house to shine again with the happiness a family brings. They have no idea where he went. It seems he was burdened with the needs to retain the past and to vanquish it.

Cecelia, you know you cannot. He would think himself either mad or haunted. Never would he believe that you were really within reach. San Francisco, the place she had lived with the historical Marquis de Sade. His vampire blood allowed him to continue his brutal tortures and rapes.

Sade had taken her from this small New York town, promising a fancy, luxurious life. In truth she found degradation and isolation as one of his vampire followers.


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He destroyed anything that could be traced to him, except for me. As Cecelia began to rise Justin reached out a hand to steady her. She grabbed onto his hand with a firmness that forced her to feel the sharp bones in his fingers and the scaled flesh that covered them.

No, Cecelia. You are a ghost to most of the people who live in this town. Regular feedings have revived your beauty. He was right; even her hair had grown back, and the tattoos had started to fade.

Marquis de Sade, Vampire, no. 1

She had removed the decorations from her flesh and the piercings had begun to close. He stared at her; his eyes had lightened into the emerald green once again. He had pushed his flaxen hair back behind his ears, and the sculpted features of his face seduced her. Do we hide in our passions?

Sips of Blood

But I could never be satisfied with you, Justin. I would want more with each quiver of flesh. He would not stalk her. He would allow her to choose the time. He stood waiting, as in her half-dream. Only this time he was dressed in tight jeans and a black muscle shirt that clutched his chest. Cecelia moved closer to rest her breasts against his chest. Have you ever had a woman, Justin? What did he mean? She was tempted to call out to him but knew he would never answer her questions. Questions she had asked him so many times. Is he afraid she would die from his overwrought passion? Justin had been eager to visit the cemetery.

He had been the one to open the iron gates and lead Cecelia down the gravel path. Cecelia needed to visit her own grave. Had anything mournful been written on the tombstone?

Shortly they would know. He fell back, knowing she would be disappointed. Over there, she yelled as she approached a thick chain-link fence. Without a body, why should there be a tombstone? Justin watched Cecelia relive the bloody scene in her mind. Her eyes flashed and her shoulders shook. This is where my vampire life began, Justin. I awoke to Sade offering me the blood of a stranger, an unkempt man who smelled bad and tasted foul. Sade killed two men here then rushed off to answer the call of his precious Liliana.

He always loved her, Justin. Loved her too much. That love will destroy him. Uneasy, Justin looked back over his shoulder. He sensed people who needed peace. He could bring comfort and oblivion to them. He moved away from Cecelia and wandered toward the old section of the cemetery. He saw hints of shadows melting behind old tombstones and weary, decaying trees. When he attempted to follow, they moved quickly away from him. The stench of their bodies made his eyes water, and he collected the rags that dropped from the mutant bodies.

These were the undead he had heard of. Mindless, some called them. But they were aware. Their trickery was simplistically minimal. They freaked at the sight of live bodies and feasted on the dead. Fear drove them from the memories of their own lives. They were keen enough to fear the living but not to understand why. Justin wished for flowers to spread among them. A lily, a rose, a carnation, to prove that they were remembered. Decayed bramble lay at his feet. He reached out to touch trees spotted and peeling with disease.

The bark crumbled in his hand, leaving a brown unwholesome ash. The bodies of the mutants disintegrated like the nature surrounding them. Flesh bruised and split. Bones fractured and poked out from the skin. No repair could be made to their bodies as they clung to the idea of existence. Let me help you, he called out to the shadows that pulled steadily back from him. The farther they withdrew, the worse their stench became. He walked into waves of odor that now smelled of fear and aggression. A shadow stumbled, seeking footing among the layers of mulch that covered the ground.

The fleeing mutant went down on all fours, like the animal it had become. Justin heard the explosive chittering of the shadows, heard the beat of their escape in the breeze that lightly stroked his own body.

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Cecelia turned and saw only tilting headstones, chipped mausoleums, stone statues posed as if they were guardians, and tired crosses sinking into the earth. Where had Justin gone? Let me help you. Without calling to him, she scrambled over the ancient debris that covered the old section of the cemetery. Whispers of movement forced her to pause. Were they surrounding her? She hissed and spat as an animal would.