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 Mengele's Legacy

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PostSubject: Mengele's Legacy   January 7th 2014, 10:04 am

Chapter One

New York, New York
December 12, 2013 11:25pm



“Please, stop.”

His head tilted to one side, his face shrouded in darkness. His lithe frame swayed from side to side as music played softly in the background. Elvis Presley’s 'Blue Christmas' crackled over the radio. He moved closer, a scalpel in one gloved hand.

Alice shuddered, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

He paused, fingers sliding up along her bare leg. A blue surgical drop cloth had been placed over her body, leaving only her head and right leg exposed. Leather restraints held her down, her naked body pressed against the cold steel of the embalming table. A bright light shined down from above, blinding her whenever she looked straight up.

Alice turned her head and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from her vision. She felt his presence directly over her. The small scalpel’s blade gleamed in the light.

“Please,” it came out as a whimper.

The song finally ended, and for a brief moment, the room was completely silent. They both held their breath, as though neither wanted the peaceful moment to end. The radio crackled loudly again and another carol began, Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice belted out the first few lines to ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’.

“Ah,” his voice was unnaturally raspy, as though he was trying to disguise it, “Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

He brought the sinister blade to the outside of her upper thigh, and dug the metal into her yielding flesh. “Don’t worry,” he growled, “You’ll probably only feel the first cut.”

He pressed hard on the handle and the scalpel broke through her skin with a barely audible pop. Alice cried out and pulled against the restraints. He dragged the blade down the length of her thigh, the blade so fine and precise that the incision did not bleed right away. She was crying now, tears streaming down her mottled cheeks.

He withdrew the blade and watched with mounting satisfaction as a thin red line appeared, followed almost immediately by several bright rivulets of blood. They slipped down her thigh, pooling on the table.

He watched her eyes roll up into the back of her head, “See?” his voice returning to normal, “I told you, you’d only feel the first cut.” He brushed the hair from her face.





Bilderberg Hotel, Netherlands
December 15, 2013 9:45pm



A row of expensive cars lined the U-shaped drive of the exclusive hotel. Several news vans had been parked along the street, everyone vying to get a shot of the group as they entered the building under the cover of darkness. A fresh layer of snow covered the front lawn, almost twinkling in the camera light.

The emergency meeting had been announced only 24 hours prior, but every member had cleared their schedules in order to attend. The news that one of their own had fallen victim to The Surgeon - as the media had dubbed him - brought the entire group together quickly.

The Bilderberg’s spacious conference room had been hastily set up in order to accommodate the group. Two long tables had been placed in the center of the room, sixty chairs lined the sides, leaving the very head of the table clear. An old projector had been set up in the front of the room, and a white screen had been pulled down from the ceiling.

Raymond Carver, standing at the head of the tables, waited patiently for the room to fill. He smiled warmly when he spotted the Lieutenant; he waved her over.

“Amanda,” he grasped her hand as she approached, “I’m so glad that you could make it on such short notice. He motioned for her to take the first chair, “Please.” He pulled her seat out for her, “We’ll be starting shortly.”

He stepped away to greet other members as they came in, all expressions were grim as people began to take their seats. In front of every person sat a plain manila folder, a small circle with a triangle in the center had been stamped at the very bottom right hand corner of the folder - the Bilderberg Group’s adopted symbol.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Raymond stood next to the warmed projector; it hummed softly. “As most already know, I called this emergency meeting immediately after learning about The Surgeon’s most recent attack.” The crowd stirred and several exchanged worried glances.

“How is Alice doing?” Someone from the crowd called out.

“Miss Lancaster is still alive and under doctor’s care, but I am afraid her sister has since passed away due to the extensive injuries,” Raymond lowered his gaze for a moment out of reverence.

“If you would all open the folders placed in front of you, I would like to get started right away,” he continued, picking up the projector’s remote, “There is a maniac on the loose, and we must work swiftly.”

There was a rustling of papers and a collective gasp.

“Yes,” Raymond clicked the remote, Alice’s bruised face appearing on the screen. “The following is extremely graphic, but necessary,” another click and a second photo appeared. “They were sewn together.” Raymond glanced back at the screen, Alice and her dead sister had been attached by their legs and arms - like a pair of conjoined twins. “Using relatively rudimentary surgical methods.”

“Are we sure this is The Surgeon’s work?”

Raymond nodded, “We are fairly certain. It does have all of the earmarks of his past work,” he paused.

“Except that she survived.” Another member called out.

“True,” Raymond clicked the remote again, a close up of Alice’s wounds appeared on the screen, “But we should not consider this the sign of a new madman on the loose or a copycat, only that our Surgeon is refining his methods.” Raymond shrugged, “He’s getting better. His victims are surviving long enough to be found alive by the authorities.”

“Are we still looking at Alban as a suspect?”

Raymond nodded, “Absolutely.” He pointed at the tables, “Page 37 is a copy of his passport, proof that he had traveled to New York only days before Alice was brutalized.”

A rustling of papers followed by anxious whispers.

“And page 38 is a picture taken from a hotel’s security camera. We believe the figure in the picture to be Alban returning to his room shortly after Alice and her twin sister were found.” The black and white picture was fuzzy, obscuring a great deal of detail, but the figure strongly resembled Alban’s tall frame.

“Has anyone spoken to Adam?”

“No,” Raymond shook his head, “It appears that Adam is no longer interested in helping us find his brother. We fear that he may have decided to hide his brother, protecting him.”

“That doesn’t sound like Adam. He has always been a friend to the Group and just as eager to stop his brother.”

Raymond shrugged, “He has refused to speak with any of our senior members for quite some time now. We believe that he is going to use his vast resources to protect Alban.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

Raymond held up his hand, “Please, I have invited someone to our meeting today who, I believe, can shed more light on this.” He smiled at Amanda and gestured for her to stand, “This is Lieutenant Amanda O’Roarke. She is a decorated officer borrowed from the States, she came highly recommended to us, and I can personally vouch for her aptitude.” He moved aside, allowing Amanda to stand at the head of the tables, “I have asked her to join us today because of her investigative prowess. She has reviewed the details of the case and has worked up a profile of our Surgeon. She is aware of the nature of our investigations and can be fully trusted.”
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 7th 2014, 9:10 pm



Lieutenant  Amanda O’Roarke came from a long line of highly respected operatives that belonged to the Bilderberg Group. Her father had worked for a sleeper cell division based out of Dublin Ireland until they had promoted him to run the New York office in the United States. She had grown up knowing that there were monsters out there, more than just the average serial killer or pedophile. The preternatural existed and it was the job of the Bilderberg Group to handle such cases involving the supernatural. They were sort of the PR of the paranormal world, attempting to keep it’s existence a secret.

Almost immediately upon entering the massive conference room, she felt as if she was out of place. She was a homicide detective for the NYPD. She wasn’t sure how her skills would fit in to a group which had lasted for several centuries. Sure her father had been the infamous Cian O’Roarke, suave single father from Dublin that had moved his young six year old daughter to the States in order to protect her from the beasties, but she had no real skills other than Mixed Martial Arts training, crime scene investigation training, S.W.A.T tactics training and a few various others that wouldn’t really matter. But, Raymond Carver believed in her. He still reminded her of her father. He stood at the head of one of the tables still managining to look dashing even though most of his dark hair was now threaded with silver.

There was a genuine smile when he noticed her and she found herself returning the gesture.

Amanda,” He took her hand in his when she came close. “I’m so glad that you could make it on such short notice.” He motioned for her to take the first chair. “Please.” He pulled the seat out for her. Ever the gentleman. “We’ll be starting shortly.”

Raymond. It is always a pleasure to see you, even if it is not on the best of assignments.” She took the seat he offered and proceeded to immediately flip through the file that was sitting on the table in front of her as Raymond went to greet the other members that were slowly filing in. Grisly photographs of Alice and her twin sister sewn together stared at her in macabre horror. It wasn’t the worst thing that Amanda had seen in her career, but it was certainly a close second. As Raymond started the meeting, she pretty much tuned everyone else out as she concentrated solely on the reports, photographs and projected images. Amanda had a strange gift when it came to depicting what happened at scenes. It was almost as if she could project herself into those moments, watching the horror unfold as a spectral spectator.

She zoned out for the span of a few minutes, seemingly missing the altercations between the Bilderberg members when in fact she heard almost every word. When Raymond called her to take the lead, she stood and removed the worn black leather jacket that she favored wearing.

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I am New York Homicide Lieutenant Amanda O’Roarke. Some of you may have known, heard of, worked for, or with my father Cian O’Roarke.” At the mention of the name there were whispers and a few open mouthed stares. She ignored them and continued. “Alban Rothschild is not just your average psychopath. A review of reports of past crimes and evaluations reveal that he may have some form of schizophrenia or anti-social disorder. On top of these illness; shall we say, Alban is also reported to be a Vampire. A creature with the ability to pass through the centuries without aging, who feeds on the blood of the living to survive. My father; as some of you may know, lost his life while trying to pursue Alban. My father suspected of him killing my mother and my aunt, her twin sister. With the added bloodlust from his Vampirism, it makes Alban a very dangerous individual.”

Amanda stopped, taking in each face gathered around the conference tables. “This picture here,” She held up the fuzzy black and white photograph from the hotel security camera that Raymond had just referred to mere moments ago. “I do not believe to be Alban. I believe it is Adam Rothschild.” There were murmurs of voices.

How can you be sure?” Came one man’s voice from the table she had been sitting at.

Alban has lighter hair than his brother. Adam himself is larger through the shoulders, more broad. If you look closer you will see that the figure in this photo has those broad shoulders and dark hair. It’s not a hundred percent given the quality of the photo, but I believe that Adam is not attempting to help Alban, but track him down on his own. Why, I’m not sure yet. Perhaps he is trying to save the family name, I don’t know. What I do know and have come to discover in my findings is that Alban is related somehow to Josef Mengele who as you may know has a connection with Hitler himself. Perhaps Alban is attempting to finish what his descendent started.”

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 8th 2014, 6:40 pm

Her statement was immediately followed by a volley of questions shouted unceremoniously by several anxious members. Raymond quickly stood and joined Amanda at the front of the room; he held up his hands in an attempt to politely bring the group back to attention.

“Please,” Raymond’s voice boomed over the din, “Remember where you are.” The others shifted in their seats, exchanging puzzled glances, but eventually all complied and the conference room was silent once again.

“Thank you,” Raymond glanced at Amanda; she had remained collected throughout the chaos, calmly drinking it all in. “The Lieutenant’s report has also been included in your packets, she was kind enough to type up a brief profile of our killer.” Raymond’s hands finally lowered, “You will notice that her findings parallel our own with only a few slight variations. We have been assuming that Alban is acting purely on instinct, his mental illness being the only driving force. But as the Lieutenant pointed out earlier, his familial link to Mengele may also play a major role.”

Raymond waited, allowing the members enough time to thoroughly read Amanda’s report. Papers rustled loudly and several people cleared their throats, but with order fully restored, no one spoke. Several minutes passed before all eyes returned to the front of the room.

“Lieutenant O’Roarke has kindly offered us some much needed assistance, and has agreed to fly back to New York with me in order to continue the investigation.” His hand swept to the side, casually pointing toward Amanda, “The Lieutenant has extensive interviewing experience and will prove invaluable when dealing with hostile witnesses – as Adam Rothschild has so quickly proven himself to be.”

“Where will you two begin?” a hand shot up, “Alban has surely left New York by now.”

Raymond nodded, “True, but Alice remains hospitalized in Mercy General, and should be questioned as soon as she is physically capable.” He turned off the projector and placed the remote on the table, “I think we should adjourn for now. The Lieutenant and I are scheduled to fly out first thing in the morning, and I know many of you are eager to return to your own investigations.”

A moment’s hesitation, and then a cacophony of chairs scraping against the polished wooden floor, “I do ask,” Raymond called over the noise, “That we strive to keep in close touch. This case, above all others, has truly hit home. Enough members have already fallen victim to this menace, and I am sure that everyone is as eager as I am to bring him to justice.”
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 8th 2014, 6:41 pm

Chapter Two


Raymond Carver’s Dassault Falcon 7X boasted a surprisingly roomy interior filled with comfortable leather furniture and cleverly hidden amenities - all in tasteful earth tones. He reclined back, the dark brown leather molding to his tall frame, a champagne flute in one hand.

“Your father and I spent a lot of time together back in the day,” he glanced over at Amanda. Seated across the narrow aisle, she had settled onto the cream colored loveseat, her long legs curled underneath her. She appeared slightly uncomfortable with the surrounding luxury. Her father, though well off, had never developed a taste for the finer things in life and had lived humbly. It had allowed him to leave Amanda a sizable inheritance upon his untimely death. “You know,” he continued, “You remind me quite a bit of him. That quiet confidence. You’re self-assured, but never arrogant.” Raymond smiled, “Cian hated traveling with me, you know, he always told me I was wasting my money on these private jets and stiff chauffeurs.” He chuckled, “I remember he hated champagne. Always insisted on having a beer. Domestic. Nothing imported.” Raymond raised his glass, “To Cian. The cheap bastard.”

After draining his flute, Raymond leaned forward and pressed a small button located just below his window. A cleverly hidden drawer slowly opened, sliding out from the cabin’s wall. He reached in and pulled out a thin binder; he rose and handed it to Amanda on his way over to the plane’s wet bar. He pulled another bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and popped the cork.

“That contains all of the information that I have been able to compile on the Rothschild brothers,” Raymond explained as he poured another glass, “Nearly ten years of hard work, and that is all I have to show for it.” He took an angry swig of alcohol, “Their connection to Mengele and the Nazi party movement is well known, but that is about all.” He moved back to his leather recliner and nestled back into the plush chair, “Alban is Mengele’s great grandfather, that we know for sure. He sired an illegitimate daughter before he was turned by Adam. She, in turn, married young, and gave birth to several children - most notably, of course, was Mengele’s mother, Walburga.”

“Mengele’s life is well documented, everyone is familiar with his atrocities,” Raymond sighed, “His death, though shrouded in mystery for some fanatics, has been confirmed several times over. So, we either have a big fan of his work, or his great granddad is finally perfecting his experiments.” Another sip, “Adam is slightly more of a mystery to the Group. He has always been friendly and helpful with the understanding that we do things on his terms. Your father seemed to have the best relationship with Adam, and after his death, Rothschild became less and less helpful.” He rose for a refill, draining the glass as he walked, “Until we lost contact all together. Which is where you come in, Lieutenant.” He returned to his seat, “We need his help in order to capture his brother, and I think you may be our last hope. I truly believe that Adam will be willing to talk to you, being that you’re Cian’s daughter.”
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 8th 2014, 8:25 pm

The bombardment of questions that resembled more of an inquisition was interrupted when Raymond joined her at the head of the table, silencing the group with a simple raise of his hands and a few words. She noticed each puzzled and nervous glance that was exchanged. There wasn’t much that Amanda didn’t notice. Like the nervous tapping someone was making with their pen against the file folder in front of them on the conference table. Or the red hair woman in the front twirling a section of flamed hair around her finger. Everyone had a tell and it took a trained eye to notice it with a simple glance. Even Raymond had a tell, and he was showing it now by the very subtle tick under his left eye. What was her nervous about? The fact that this could be one of the most complex cases that the Bliderberg Group has ever faced? Or was he hiding something that he didn’t want the other members to know? It wasn’t that Amanda didn’t trust him, she did. She had known him for so long that he felt virtually like family. It was her cop instincts kicking in. Every gesture told a story and this one was telling her that there was more information that she needed to know that he hadn’t disclosed to the remainder of the group.

There was rustling of paper as everyone turn to the copy of the report she had disclosed. A hand almost immediately shot up when Raymond informed them of her agreement to return to the States in order to begin their search.

“Where will you two begin? Alban has surely left New York by now.”

Raymond nodded and replied. “True, but Alice remains hospitalized in Mercy General, and should be questioned as soon as she is physically capable.” He turned off the projector and placed the remote on the table.

“The most obvious place to start is at the beginning.” Amanda interrupted for a moment, turning her dark brown gaze to the man who had asked the question. “We won’t know where he is going until we investigate where he has been.”

“I think we should adjourn for now.” Raymond concluded the meeting. “The Lieutenant and I are scheduled to fly out first think in the morning and I know many of you are eager to return to your own investigations.”

She zoned out for a moment as she watched each member of Bilderberg gather their belongings. Chairs scraped against the highly polished wooden floors. They all paused when Raymond gave a last instruction and she noticed a few of them nearly flinch. There were some who seemed to be deeply affected by The Surgeon’s carnage and there were a couple who seemed more nervous than usual. Was there someone among them who knew more than they were letting on? It was in her nature to be suspicious. She was a cop after all.



Amanda sat almost rigid in the plush leather chairs that the jet offered for seating. She; like her father, hated such luxuries. It seemed like such a waste of money, purchasing things in which there was no real need for. What was wrong with taking a normal plane like the rest of the human population?

“Your father and I spent a lot of time together back in the day.” Her attention focused on Raymond as he glanced over at her. There seemed to be a slight amused expression on his face, almost as if he noticed her discomfort. Though she was just as rich as Raymond, Amanda prefered to live more modestly. The only thing that she really had to show for her wealth was her collection of cars and motorcycles, she hardly every spent a dime unless she absolutely had to. Her bills were payed for six months at a time and she always had food in the house, preferring to cook rather than order out.

“You know,” He continued. “You remind me quite a bit of him. That quiet confidence. You’re self-assured, but never arrogant.” Raymond smiled. “Cian hated traveling with me, you know. He always told me I was wasting my money on these private jets and stiff chauffeurs.” He chuckled. “I remember he hated champagne. Always insisted on having a beer. Domestic. Nothing imported.” Raymond raised his glass. “To Cian. The cheap bastard.”

Amanda smiled in spite of herself, lifting her water bottle in memory of her father. “There’s a few things he and I differ on. For one, I don’t drink and two, I’m better looking.” She had to joke. The seriousness of the case had begun to put everyone on edge. She had nearly cussed out the clerk at the front desk at her hotel when he had refused to give her a wake up call at 3am. Once Raymond was done draining the contents of his flute, he leaned forward and pressed a small button located just below his window. A cleverly hidden drawer slid out from the cabin’s wall. He reached in and pulled out a thin binder. With it in hand, he rose and handed it to her as he made his way over to the plane’s wet bar. Almost immediately, Amanda flipped it open, scanning through the neatly typed notes, reports and photo copied images.

“That contained all of the information that I have been able to compile on the Rothschild brothers.” Raymond explained as he popped the cork on another bottle of champagne and poured himself another glass. “Nearly ten years of hard work, and that is all I have to show for it.” She glanced over at him as he took an angry swig of the alcohol. Her dark gaze shifted back to the binder in her lap. “Their connection to Mengele and the Nazi party movement is well known, but that is about all. Alban is Mengele’s great grandfather, that we know for sure. He sired and illegitimate daughter before he was turned by Adam. She in turn married young and gave birth to several children - most notably, of course, was Mengele’s mother, Walburga.” He moved back to his leather recliner and nestled back into the plush chair. “Mengele’s life is well documented, everyone familiar with his atrocities,” He sighed. “His death, though shrouded in mystery for some fanatics, has been confirmed several times over. So we either have a big fan of his work, or his great grand dad is finally perfecting his experiments.” He took another sip from his glass. “Adam is slightly more of a mystery to the Group. He has always been friendly and helpful with the understanding that we do things on his terms. Your father seemed to have the best relationship with Adam, and after his death, Rothschild became less and less helpful.” Raymond rose for yet again, another refull, draining the glass as he walked. “Until we lost contact all together. Which is where you come in, Lieutenant. We need his help in order to capture his brother, and I think you may be our last hope. I truly believe that Adam will be willing to talk to you, being that you’re Cian’s daughter.”

If only he knew the half of it. Though, if he knew, Raymond probably wouldn’t ask her to confer with the Bilderberg Group. Five years prior, Amanda had had a pretty serious relationship with Adam Rothschild. She knew that without a doubt if she contacted him, he would undoubtedly speak with her. He was the one who had walked out, but they had split their relationship on good terms. His excuse was that he had business to take care of before he could devote his time fully to their relationship and now she knew that his business had been his brother.

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 8th 2014, 9:54 pm

Chapter Three



The taxi slowed but did not come to a full stop at the intersection; instead it made a fast right turn onto Parkway Avenue and sped down the busy street. Raymond watched as the urban landscape flew past them in a gray blur.

“Don’t want to slow down around here,” the cabbie called nervously over his shoulder. “People get shot on this street.” He kept the windows up and the doors locked; his large brown eyes darting from mirror to mirror as though he expected an ambush. “I still can’t believe you two want to be dropped off around here.” He laughed nervously, “Not too many white people here.”

Raymond’s eyebrows shot up momentarily, and he smiled despite his own feelings of trepidation.  Leave it to Adam Rothschild, the richest bastard Raymond knew, to select one of the most dangerous and poorest neighborhoods to hide out in. It was a rather genius plan, Raymond had to admit, not many Bilderbergers were brave enough to follow the vampire this far into the slums. They all stuck out like sore thumbs. Most members were nothing more than wealthy Ivy Leaguers who possessed a strange affinity for the macabre. When the cases became too frightening, they usually would pass them off to a senior member to close. It was only a weekend gig for some.

“We should be coming up on the apartments soon,” Raymond glanced down at a folded piece of paper, he had hastily jotted down Adam’s most current address.

“We’re here,” the cab driver pulled the car over. “Out. Both of you.” He began to fidget as a small group of muscular young men began to approach the vehicle. Their sharp eyes fixated on Amanda; Raymond suddenly felt like a gazelle being surrounded by a pride of hungry lions.

“I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to wait for us?” Raymond fished out four twenties and handed them to the driver.

“Mister,” the cabbie snatched the bills out of his hand, “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

Raymond sighed and glanced at Amanda, “Ready?” He opened the door and stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. He watched the young men slowly spread out, stalking them, their hungry eyes on the pretty Lieutenant. He held the door for her, and offered her his arm. They walked up the sidewalk toward the locked doors.

“Hey, baby.”

A wolf whistle.

“Come on, bitch, turn around.”

Raymond felt Amanda’s muscles tighten, “Easy. Not worth starting a street fight over.” If she was anything like her father, and Raymond would bet his entire fortune that she was, he knew she would be willing to take on every last one of them.

They reached the panel of buzzers and Raymond quickly located Adam’s apartment number. He pressed the button, and they were met with silence.

“Come here, you stupid bitch. You can’t ignore me.” One of the men ascended the stairs.

Raymond hit the buzzer again, “Damn it, Adam.”

The young hoodlum reached out and grabbed ahold of Amanda’s forearm, pulling her toward his sweaty body. He smiled, revealing a row of silver capped teeth, “You ignoring me?”

Raymond swiftly stepped forward and lashed out, his closed left fist connecting with the aggressor’s exposed throat. The young man released Amanda and dropped to his knees, choking loudly.

The others moved forward, en masse, with alarming speed. Raymond calmly stepped forward and drew a silver pistol from behind his suit jacket. He trained the weapon on the nearest thug, “I’m only going to say this once,” the entire group froze. “Pick up your friend and leave. Now.”

A moment passed where no one moved. No one even breathed.

Raymond cocked the gun, the telltale clicks breaking the confused silence. The group suddenly scattered, leaving their injured comrade to fend for himself. Still covering his throat with both hands, the young man jumped to his feet and took off after his friends.

“Shit,” Raymond muttered, tucking the gun back into its holster. “Your father taught me that move,” he had gone slightly pale, “Never had to use it until now.” He approached the panel again, “Are you all right?” He reached up to press the button, but a loud buzzer rang overhead and the door unlocked. Raymond glanced at Amanda, “I guess Adam is accepting visitors again.”

He opened the door, and ushered Amanda inside.

***

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Raymond look around the dilapidated apartment. The space had been completely gutted; it was completely void of any amenity. The kitchen sported large holes in the drywall and the linoleum had been ripped up in several places. What was left of the cupboards were missing the doors, and what appeared to be broken drug paraphernalia littered the sink and counter tops.

Adam had answered the door before Raymond had had a chance to knock; he wordlessly lead his guests through the apartment and into the living room where he had set up a rickety card table in the middle of the space. Atop the makeshift desk sat several stacks of books and folders, it sagged under the weight.

“Well,” Raymond began, “I know that I was the last person that you ever expected to come knocking on your door, but we are in desperate need of your help, Adam. You haven’t exactly been the easiest person to get ahold of lately.” Raymond gestured toward Amanda, “But first, I would like to introduce you to...”

Adam held up a hand, his dark eyes boring into Amanda’s, “I know who she is, Mr. Carver.”

Raymond appeared shocked, “Oh?”

“Yes,” Adam turned his gaze onto the older man, “Her father spoke of her often. I suppose it was his way of extracting information from me.” He looked back at Amanda, “He would tell me a little bit about his family in hopes that I would open up about mine.”

“Yes, well,” Raymond paused, thrown by the sudden change in mood. “I was hoping that you would be willing to help us with the investigation.” Raymond smiled and reached into his pocket, “Like I’ve said before, we are not interested in hurting your brother, merely getting him off of the streets. He’s a danger to himself, as I am certain you already know. And I’m sure that...”

“Enough,” Adam sighed. “I don’t believe you Raymond, but I am growing desperate. Alban has managed to elude me for long enough, and I am worried for him.” He used his chin to point toward Amanda, “But I am only willing to cooperate with her acting as liaison between us.”

Raymond smiled, “Great, that’s perfect. I think we can work something out.” He nodded at Amanda.

“Now, Raymond,” Adam moved toward the door.

“What?”

“I’d like to speak with her now, if you don’t mind,” Adam opened the door, “It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Carver.”

“But...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that she gets home in one piece,” Adam shut the door in Raymond’s face. He waited until he heard the retreating footsteps grow faint. “What the hell are you doing?” He turned to face her.
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 9th 2014, 12:14 am

Parkway Ave had been part of her beat back in the day when she had worked patrol. She certainly had not missed it one bit. It only seemed to have gotten worse in the near five years she put into Homicide. She had virtually remained silent since the moment they landed at the airport. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to her reunion with Adam Rothschild. They weren’t enemies exactly, but she was still hurt that he had broken things off with her barely a month after her father’s passing. She supposed it was for the best, given the fact that he wasn’t exactly human to begin with, and yet she had still loved him in spite of it. Hell, she still loved him now.  

Amanda continued to stare out the window even as they entered an even darker section of town. This place made Harlem look like the Hilton. The driver stopped the cab a few moments later as a group of young men, undoubtedly posing as gang members stalked the cab and it’s occupants. Their dark eyes watched her every move as she slid from the cab gracefully.  She hoped they would pull some dumb stunt. She was itching for a fight and being train in Mixed Martial Arts; Muay Thai being the first martial art she had learned, there would be undoubtedly a lot of bones broken.

For the most part, she ignored the cat calls and crude commentary from their inferior brains, that was until one of them grabbed her. Instinct kicked in, but before she could grab his head and bring her knee up to break his nose, Raymond struck the idiotic thug directly into the throat with a close fist. Undoubtedly a move that her father had taught him. She had seen it before and had used it countless times when she didn’t want to or was unable to hurt someone severely. When the rest of the group moved to swarm them, Raymond pulled a silver pistol from the small of his back where it had been hidden beneath his suit jacket.

When the group retreated in hasted, Amanda sighed. “Couldn’t just let me have my fun.” She mumbled mostly to herself, her voice still containing it’s perpetual hint of Ireland. “Had to go and be the hero, play the knight in shining armor.”


---

Adam’s apartment looked more like a flop house for a bunch of junkies. She knew that this was just a facade. She knew there were secret rooms hidden somewhere that would provide a more cleanly environment. Probably hidden behind some book shelf. The moment her eyes drifted over to Adam, she felt her breath hitch. Naturally he still looked the same. He was a Vampire after all and prone to the whole not aging thing. The Vampire barely even spared a glance at Raymond. His dark eyes bored into hers. There wasn’t exactly a hatred there. Anger, yes. Annoyance, possibly. But deep within them she still felt a sense of longing. Or was that coming from her?

She seemed almost oblivious of his interaction with Carver and her gaze never left his. Had he be-spelled her with some sort of Vampire trick? No, the Adam she knew would never do such things without permission. Or had he really changed all that much in the past five years? Amanda watched Adam move to the door, seemingly in a haste to usher Raymond out the door. Once the door was closed and Raymond’s footsteps grew distant until they completely faded, Rothschild turned to face her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Standing in this shit hole you call an apartment, darlin’.” Came her slightly smart assed comment. A small and amused smile tugged at a single corner of her full lips. Her long dark brown hair was pulled back into a single tight braid. Amanda wore her familiar worn black leather jacket. Beneath it was a shoulder holster complete with her cop issue 9mm Bretta. Clipped to the holster was her badge. Faded and ripped dark grey jeans nearly matched the same color of the long sleeved grey shirt she wore beneath the coat. Worn black work boots finished off her attire of ass kickery.

“All amusement aside, cupcake, the Bilderberg group called me. They wanted my expertise to create a profile for Alban. I gave them one. As I am sure you’re well aware one of the group had been attacked by The Surgeon. Name of Alice Lancaster, Junior member of the Bilderberg Group. She was found surgically attached to her twin sister. Alice survived but her sister did not.”

Amanda reached into the small inside pocket of her jacket and removed the folded up photograph. She unfolded it and held it up to him. It was the fuzzy black and white still of Adam from the hotel in New York. She had pocketed it from her file from the meeting in the Netherlands. “I may be jet lagged, but I know that this is you in this photograph. May I ask what the hell you were doing at that hotel?”

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 9th 2014, 3:00 pm

Despite the biting sarcasm, Adam still found her beguiling - long dark hair, flawless skin, toned body – she was as close to perfection as any mortal could get. He suddenly found himself thinking back on their relationship. The nights they had spent together.

“I may be jet lagged, but I know that this is you in this photograph. May I ask what the hell you were doing at that hotel?”

She was holding up a wrinkled black and white photo; despite the poor quality, Adam immediately recognized himself. She dangled the grainy image in the air, awaiting his response. Her eyebrows were arched expectantly.

“I don’t want you involved in this,” Adam finally replied flatly, ignoring her question entirely. He quickly approached Amanda and snatched the picture from her grasp, crumpling it into a tight ball as he walked toward a dusty window, “This doesn’t concern you.” He tossed the wadded paper onto the floor, and stared quietly at the busy street below.

He finally turned, “Frankly, this doesn’t concern the Bilderberg Group either.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, “I assume that you were briefed on the details of the case before you accepted Raymond’s invitation.” His brows furrowed, “You would have known that my brother was suspected and that I was being sought.” There was a pregnant pause, “Why did you agree to take this assignment?”

A knock at the door interrupted the brief staring contest. Adam, his arms still crossed, ignored the intrusion, “Alban is not The Surgeon, and he did not kill your father.” His expression softened slightly, he could see the pain in her eyes. Her father’s death had affected her deeply, and the wound was still fresh. Despite her inner strength, Adam knew she had loved and respected her father very much, forever possessing a soft spot for him. Adam found himself selfishly wondering if she still carried a weakness for him as well.

There was another knock, this one louder - urgent.

His nostrils briefly flared and his hands dropped, “Excuse me.” Adam swiftly moved toward the door and opened it, allowing the visitor to enter quickly. The vampire shut the door and latched it behind the newcomer.

“Here,” the stranger handed Adam a slim black object – a flash drive – and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh,” it was the cab driver, “I didn’t realize she was still here.” He glanced at Adam; a worrisome look clouded his face.

“It’s all right,” Adam reassured the man, “She was just leaving.”

Another object – this one a dark plastic baggie – passed between them. Adam slipped both items into his jacket pocket, “Wait here.” He turned and disappeared into one of the adjacent bedrooms.

The fake cab driver smiled, shoving his fists into his trouser’s pockets, “Nice weather today, huh?” Gone was the skittish demeanor and Middle Eastern accent, the cabbie stood taller – his shoulders wide – and his dark eyes were sharp like that of a coiled viper. His voice was deep and confident, completely different from before.

Adam reentered the room with a roll of bills in one hand; he handed the money to his friend and walked him to the door.

Auf Wiedersehen,” the cabbie smirked and slipped out of the apartment into the empty hallway.

Adam closed the door, “It’s time for you to go, Amanda.” He found the words bitter on his tongue; he didn’t want her to leave so soon. He turned and approached her, “Come with me,” he led her to the dusty window. “Do you see that garage across the street?” He pointed at a dilapidated brick building, the aluminum door covered in dents and graffiti. “Inside is something I think you may find more to your liking than a cab.” A pair of keys suddenly appeared along with a hotel room keycard; he pressed them into the palm of her hand, “Meet me there tonight. We’ll talk more then.”

Out of habit, Adam leaned down to kiss her. His lips brushed against hers before he realized what he had done, and he quickly withdrew.

***

Adam had watched her leave, driving off on the brand new Ninja he had purchased especially for her only days before. Raymond had tipped him off, leaving a coded voicemail message, letting him know that Amanda had officially joined the investigation. He knew what Carver was doing; using her to distract him; a ploy to get closer to Alban. Raymond was clever, but Adam liked to think that he was still several steps ahead of the mortal. He had to be if there was any hope of finding his younger brother before the Bilderbergers did.

He sat quietly in the dimly lit apartment, eyes closed, waiting for enough time to pass. Nearly two hours ticked by before he finally stirred. With a suspicious glance out of the window, Adam drew the curtains closed, throwing the room into complete darkness. He blinked, his preternatural eyes quickly adjusting to the drastic change in light. He approached the overburdened card table and pulled a thin computer from its hiding place. It fit into the palm of his hand and had cost him tens of thousands of dollars in order to have it developed and created to his specifications. It was a powerful little machine and, Adam felt, worth every penny.

He tapped the screen and it blinked to life. Pulling the flash drive from his pocket, Adam plugged it in and waited until the picture cleared. A still shot of Raymond and Amanda in the back of the cab appeared on the small screen. Adam tapped the computer again and the video started to play.
“1261 Parkway, please.” Raymond instructed the driver.

The camera jostled as the cab began to move. Adam watched the entire 24 minute video through twice, listening to every word, studying every facial expression. Unsatisfied, he played it once more, paying close attention to Raymond. The older man had said nothing of great importance, as a matter of fact, he seemed to be avoiding any topic that may be considered at all confidential. He was being careful.

***

The entrance to the St. Regis Hotel was well lit. A red carpet had been placed on the sidewalk for the guests and several doormen stood at attention. All smiled brightly as he approached the double glass doors.

“Good evening, Mr. Rothschild,” came the friendly greeting. The man grasped the golden door handle and stepped back.

“Good evening.” Adam passed through into the spacious lobby, heading for the elevators. Amanda, most assuredly, had already arrived hours before, and Adam mildly wondered what she had done with herself as she waited.

The elevator chimed softly as it climbed several floors, finally stopping on the fifth. With a gentle whoosh, the elevator opened and Adam briskly walked down the hallway and finally stopped in front of his door. He pulled the spare keycard from his pocket, but stopped.

He gently knocked before slipping the card into the waiting slot. The lock clicked open…
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 9th 2014, 6:48 pm

As always, Adam ignored her question.

“I don’t want you involved in this.” He replied almost flatly. He moved towards her and quickly snatched the picture from her grasp, crumpling it into a tight ball as he walked towards one of the dusty windows. “This doesn’t concern you.” He threw the wadded paper onto the floor, staring down onto the busy street below.

“Weather or not you want me involved in this, I am. I’m not going to back off just because you don’t want me stick my nose into it.” Came her rather calm reply. He should know her better than that. “If this didn’t concern me, Adam, I wouldn’t be here. This was part of my father’s last case. I owe it to him.”

“Frankly this doesn’t concern the Bilderberg Group either.”  He finally turned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I assume that you were briefed on the details of the case before you accepted Raymond’s invitation.” His brow furrowed. “You would have known that my brother was suspected and that I was being sought.” There was a pause. “Why did you agree to take this assignment?”

Before Amanda could answer, there was a knock at the door. For a moment, it seemed as if Adam was going to ignore it. “Alban is not the Surgeon, and he did not kill your father.” His expression seemed to soften slightly.

“I never said that he was. The Bilderberg Group wanted a profile on Alban. I gave them one. They didn’t ask for one on The Surgeon. You forgot that I met your brother a few times before. As mentally unstable as he may be, I don’t entirely believe that he is capable of such horrific crimes.”

There was another knock and this one was louder, seemingly urgent.

Adam’s hands dropped. “Excuse me.” He moved with that deadly predatorial grace of his towards the door and opened it, allowing the visitor to enter. It was the cab driver. The skittish demeanor and Middle Easter accent were gone. He stood taller, his shoulders wide and dark eyes sharp. He passed a couple of things to Adam who disappeared from the room with his contents, huddled over them like he was protecting a child.

The cab driver shoved his fists into the pockets of his trousers. “Nice weather today, huh?”

A single corner of her mouth lifted upwards. “There was a bug in the cab.” She made it a statement rather than a question. Though she wasn’t a hundred percent sure if there had been a bug, she was fairly positive that one of the things that the cab driver had handed to Adam was a flash drive. “Try the weather in Ireland, darlin’. You’d find yourself walled up in a pub drinkin’ Guinness just to escape the dreary rain that never stops.”

Adam returned to the room, a roll of bills in one hand which he handed to the cab driver as he walked him to the door.

“Auf Wiedersehen.” The driver smirked and slipped out of the apartment as the Vampire closed the door.

“It’s time for you to go, Amanda.” His words seemed to sound hollow. So much for a welcome home. What had she expected? Dinner, wine and conversation?

“Fine.” Before she could make her way for the door, he turned and approached her.

“Come with me.” He led her to the dusty window he had been fond of since she set foot into the apartment. “Do you see the garage across the street?” He pointed to a dilapidated brick building, the aluminum door covered in dents and graffiti. “Inside is something I think you may find more to your liking than a cab.” A pair of keys suddenly appeared along with a keycard for a hotel room. “Meet me there tonight. We’ll talk more then.”

She desperately wanted to tell him exactly where he could put those keys, but when his lips brushed against hers, her brain just went to mush.


---


The lock to the hotel room clicked open and there was a faint audible creak in the hinges as it was pushed aside. Almost immediately, Amanda knew it was Adam. She could smell the faint musk of his cologne. She sat in the middle of the floor with case files, reports and photographs strewn around her in a semi circle. She was currently studying the report done by the police officials who had been the first responders to the scene of Alice’s horrific appearance. She held up her hand to silence Adam from saying anything as she finished reading the tail end of the report. Her jacket  lay tossed across the arm of a nearby chair. Her holster was in plain sight, but she knew Adam wasn’t intimidated by it. He could probably move faster than the bullet could anyway.

When she was finished, she lowered her hand and placed the report on top of the file it had come from. “Since you so conviently ignored my question earlier, I am going to ask it again. What were you doing in that hotel?”

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 10th 2014, 12:40 pm

Adam entered the room, softly closing the door behind himself. Amanda had settled onto the carpeted floor, reports scattered around her. She didn’t immediately look up, instead she simply held up a hand indicating that she needed silence.

Slipping his coat from his shoulders, Adam hung it from an available hook, and quietly found a comfortable seat nearby. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, and she seemed completely immersed in the paperwork. Adam allowed his eyes to wander up and down her body, stealing a quick glance down her shirt.

“Since you so conveniently ignored my question earlier, I am going to ask it again. What were you doing in that hotel?”

She had finally finished reading; her stare was accusatory, and Adam knew that she wouldn’t let up until he produced a believable answer.

He leaned forward in the chair, feet spread, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly, “I was there because I had been invited.” He paused, watching her reaction – there was none. “I received a phone call from Alban the day before, asking me to meet him at that hotel.” He reached back and slipped his cell phone from his trouser’s pockets, “I recorded the conversation.”

He tapped the screen several times, and then held the phone closer to Amanda as the recording began to play.

“Hello?” Adam’s voice was clear and distinct.

Hallo, bruder,” came Alban’s voice in flawless German.

“Alban, where are you?”

Alban clicked his tongue, there was a brief pause, “That’s all you have to say to me, bruder?”

“Listen to me,” Adam’s hushed tone conveyed a deep urgency, “You need to stop running, Alban. There are people coming after you, and they won’t stop until you are dead.”

There was a laugh, “The plebs have drawn their pitchforks for us again, have they? Come on, big brother, we’ve survived much worse than this.”

“The Bilderbergers aren’t just a group of scared farmers,” Adam said, “They are out for your blood.”

A sigh, “My big brother, always the worrier.” Another sigh, “I need a favor.”

“What do you want, Alban?”

There was a rustling of paper in the background, “Meet me at The Manhattan on West 38th  - room 210- tomorrow night. 1:00a.m. Be on time, bruder, we will discuss things further then.”

“Alban…”

A soft click and then the recording ended.

“He never showed,” Adam mumbled. “I feel as though I have been chasing shadows this past year,” he slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Other than the occasional cryptic phone call, I haven’t had any contact with him.” He leaned back in the chair, casually crossing one leg over the other. He studied her, trying to read her facial expression. “I went to that hotel hoping he had tired of this little game he has been playing. Apparently, though, he is still having his fun.” He averted his eyes, staring down at the floor. Several minutes passed before he finally looked back up.

“I understand your desire to close this case,” a small mirthless smile on his face, “and I know you well enough to know that I cannot sway you. You’ve made your decision.” A brief pause, “I want to work with you on this, help you catch the real killer, and absolve my brother of any wrong doing. He’s no saint,” Adam admitted, “But I do know that he is incapable of committing these crimes.”

“Alban left Germany long before the war,” Adam continued, “He never showed any interest in his family and was all too willing to abandon his daughter.” He shook his head, “As far as I know, he never even knew Josef existed. Alban has never been interested in anyone or anything other than himself.” His eyebrows rose slightly, “I thought turning him would change him. I thought my gift would cleanse his mind of his disease.” A brief pause, “I was wrong.”

Adam watched Amanda, black and white pictures strewn around her on the floor, sharp eyes staring back at him. A deep familiar yearning roiled in his gut, and he forced himself to break eye contact. He hadn’t fed in nearly a week, and he could hear the blood thundering through her veins; he could almost taste her life force on his tongue. She had allowed him to drink from her once before, the sensation had nearly driven them both mad, and Adam suddenly found himself thinking back to their last night together.

“I should be going,” he finally spoke, but did not move from the chair, “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.”
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 10th 2014, 9:41 pm

The conversation sounded almost as if Alban was attempting to set up his own brother. Although she knew Alban wasn’t capable of such crimes as the Bilderberg Group wanted to pin on him, Amanda wasn’t exactly ruling anything out just yet. What if he was working with or for the killer? To her immediate knowledge, she had never once heard of Alban having any sort of medical training. It didn’t mean that he didn’t, just that she never heard of it. It was a theory she would have to play on in her notes before she questioned Adam about it. She had many questions and she would certainly grill him about them in due time.

Amanda stood gracefully from the curled up sitting position she had spent the better part of three hours in. Her back was stiff and so she reached up with both hands and leaned back as far as she could while standing. The stretch felt good to her otherwise sore muscle tissue.

“I was going to go back to my apartment tonight, but I may take you up on that offer. I’ve been to the Netherlands and back in less than two days and have barely had any sleep. I’m exhausted and in desperate need of a shower. Though at this point I’m not sure if I want sleep or the shower more.”

She didn’t miss the flash of hunger on Adam’s face. Somehow she knew he hadn’t fed, though she wasn’t sure how long he had gone this time. Boldly, she moved towards him where he sat on the chair. He hadn’t moved an inch since he announced that he should leave. What was holding him here still? Was it her or the pounding allure of her pulse? Carefully, Amanda reached out and gently gripped beneath his chin with her thumb and index finger. She let her dark gaze wander over his face. His cheek bones looked a little more sunken that usual and there were dark smudges beneath his eyes.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a decent feeding, darlin’?” Her voice was soft so as not to make her question sound like an inquisition. Though Amanda was still mad at him for the way he had left, she could never bring herself to hate him. She held no ill will and would never want to see him hurt by someone else’s hand or his own. Did she really want him feeding from her again? The last time had been maddening for them both and the fact that it had been during sex probably hadn’t helped the issue. It had been one of the most erotic experiences that she had ever encountered, though she didn’t really have a mile long track record to compare it to. Adam had’t been her first, but he had been the last. She never touched anyone after they split. It wasn’t for lack of suitors, Amanda just hadn’t been interested. She had immersed herself into her work and training, and never looked back.

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 11th 2014, 12:33 pm

She approached him and gently cupped his chin, pulling his face upwards. Their eyes briefly met.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a decent feeding, darlin’?”

He gently pushed her hand away, fighting the urge to take her, “It has been a while,” he admitted. She stood over him, her subtle perfume filling his nostrils, “I should go.” Adam rose slowly, gently grasping her arms as he did, trying to guide her aside. She refused to move, planting herself in front of him.  Her heartbeat thundered in his ears and he felt the last tendrils of self-control finally slip away.

He seized Amanda, wrapping her in his arms. Adam felt her muscles tense, but she did not protest. He quickly bent forward and sunk his fangs into her yielding flesh. The scorching hot blood gushed into his hungry mouth and he drank greedily - his hands roughly pulling at her braid, opening her neck further. They stumbled, but quickly recovered. His grip tightened as he drained her; little electric currents of excitement ran up and down his spine. He felt his body absorb her life force, rejuvenating his tired figure.

He finally pulled away, a groan escaped his bloodied lips. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. Her fluid coursed through his veins, awakening his humanity. His skin slowly warmed and his hollowed cheeks filled. He released her and stepped back, wiping at his mouth. “Shit,” he cursed, his senses ablaze. The chaos of the streets below reached his ears, mixing with the sounds inside of the hotel, swirling around him like an out of sync orchestra.

As her blood slowly quieted in his veins, so did the sensory overload, and soon Adam found himself back in the hotel room with Amanda. Silence settled over him as he willingly blocked out the other noises, “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I lost control.”

***

“Alice?”

Her eyes blinked open, the florescent light burned; her eyes began to water, “Who?” she choked on the word, her throat so dry.

“Dear Alice, you have forgotten about me already?” Came the familiar raspy voice.

She blinked rapidly, unable to turn her head; her entire body ached and she found her limbs too heavy to move. Her muddied thoughts fogging her mind, and it took her several seconds to put the pieces together.

“No,” she whimpered.

A hand tugged at her blankets, “Oh, you remember.” The Surgeon sounded pleased, “I am so glad.” He flipped the blanket up and away, lifting her hospital gown, “Butcher.” He clicked his tongue as he examined her wounds, unsatisfied with the doctor’s handiwork. “I would have done a cross-stitch here.” He jammed his thumb into her leg, popping several stitches.

Alice cried out and he quickly covered her mouth with his hand, “Shh.” He hovered over her, mere inches from her face, a hood pulled low over his own. He smiled, revealing two small fangs, “We wouldn’t want anyone ruining our fun, would we?"

Alice whimpered, keeping her eyes on The Surgeon, trying to absorb every detail - his perfect teeth, the curve of his jaw. Her hand slowly slid under her thigh, fingers grazing the emergency call button.

“I’m sorry about Rose,” his head tilted to one side, “I cut her too deep, but I am getting better, aren’t I?” His free hand brushed a few tendrils of hair from her face, “You’re living proof of it.”

Alice nodded, her fingers pulling the small remote into her hand. As soon as she had a firm hold, she repeatedly pressed the call button, praying a nurse would come running.

“You know,” he began but stopped. The Surgeon released her cheeks and backed away.

“Excuse me, sir,” a nurse entered the room and ran to Alice’s side, brushing passed the killer, “what is it, dear?”

Alice reached up, her sore muscles aching terribly, and grabbed at the nurse’s uniform, “Call the police!” she nearly screamed. She frantically glanced around the room, chest heaving, but The Surgeon had already disappeared.
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 11th 2014, 7:37 pm

For some unknown reason, she wanted Adam to loose control. She wanted some sign that he still wanted her as much as she did him. When his arms came around her, crushing her to his powerful frame, she felt the rock hard need resonating within him. The subtle pain of his sharp canines piercing the delicate flesh of her neck quickly faded and was replaced by an intense sensual feeling. It had been more intense the last time she had offered her blood, but it was still an intense experience.

Adam finished taking what he needed and stepped away. When he apologized, Amanda only chuckled.

“If I hadn’t wanted to share my blood, Adam, I wouldn’t have commented on your feeding habits.” Her voice was soft, slightly husky and thick with her Irish brogue. She moved from the living room, a bit shaky from the blood loss. She used a hand to brace herself against the wall as she entered the bathroom. Without caring or closing the door, Amanda stripped out of her clothing, leaving it trailing across the black marble floor. Blood trailed in rivulets from her neck, both trails winding a path along her skin, trickling lower over her left breast.

Amanda stumbled to the shower, turning it on and as hot as she could stand it. She was now completely exhausted. All she wanted to do was curl up beneath the sheets of the bed and pass out, even if it would be only for a few blissful hours. With Adam in such close proximity, by all rights she should be taking a cold shower., but she was already cold. Perhaps he had taken too much of her blood after all. She tilted her head down, allowing the scalding hot water to lash at the back of her head and neck.

Suddenly, over the pounding water in her ears, she could make out the shrill ringing of her cell phone which was still in her coat pocket. Lifting her head, she listened more intently just to make sure she heard correctly. Yup, definitely her cell phone. Amanda made a mad dash for the living room, her naked body dripping with beads of water and faint wisps of steam rising from the surface of her skin. She didn’t look to see if Adam was still there. She hadn’t heard him leave. Fumbling into her jacket, she nearly cursed when water fell from her body and onto the worn leather. She  hoped the phone call was important enough to make her ruin her coat.

“O’Roarke.” Amanda answered a moment later. It was one of the Bilderberg members.

“We intercepted a phone call made from Mercy General. About an hour ago, a nurse walked in on the Surgeon making another attempt at Alice.” It was Reginald Gimwold

Amanda cursed fluently in Gaelic, a long stream of obsenitites that would have made even a truck driver blush. “I’ll be there myself shortly. Make sure we confinscate all security recordings. I want the names of the officers that had been assigned to guard her door and I want to speak with them. Were they on post when this occured?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. The nurse walked in and interrupted him.”

“I will want to speak with her as well.”

“I will inform them immediately.”

No goodbye’s were exchanged and Amanda tossed her phone onto her jacket as she moved quickly back to the bathroom to dry off and get dressed.

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 12th 2014, 10:32 am

Chapter Four



“Can I see your badge again, sir?” The front desk nurse stood up from her chair.

“Of course,” Raymond handed her the fake deputy star. He propped his weight against the desk, acting as casual as possible. He had flashed this badge before, but had never met with such resistance.

After a few tense moments, the portly nurse nodded and handed Raymond his wallet, “Never can be too careful now-a-days.” She smiled, plopping back down into her seat, “With all the crazies running around the city.”

Raymond slipped the fake badge back into his suit coat’s pocket, “Of course, ma’am. I appreciate your attention to detail. Not many people are as observant as you.”

She blushed, “Thank you.” She turned and quickly tapped at her keyboard, “The patient you are looking for is in room 412. We had her moved after the... incident earlier tonight.” The nurse clasped her hands and smiled up at Raymond, “Is there anything else I can help you with, Deputy?”

Raymond bowed his head, “No, ma’am. You have done enough already.”

***

“What the fuck happened?” Raymond blew through the elevator doors and quickly approached the appointed guards.

“I’m sorry, sir,” one young man responded, “He must have been watching us and attacked when we were called away for shift change.”

Raymond’s brows furrowed, “Called away?”

The two men exchanged confused looks. “You called us down to the front desk. You said our relief had finally arrived.”

“Except no one was there,” the other guard finally spoke, “We returned as soon as we realized the mistake.”

“I didn’t call either of you,” Raymond was beginning to lose his patience, “Why the fuck would I call you away from your post? Your replacements were to meet you two outside of Alice’s door. She was never to have been left alone.”

“I’m sorry,” one guard held up his phone, a brief text message appeared on the screen, “We thought plans had changed.”



Shift change at midnight. Meet replacements at front desk.



Raymond snatched the phone away for a closer look. The message appeared to have come from his phone number, “It never occurred to you two that Alban was clever enough to manipulate phone signals?”

“I’m sorry,” the guard replied lamely.

Raymond tossed the phone back, “Well, you’re both relieved now. I don’t ever want to see either of you again. Pick up your pay from Gimwold and leave New York.” He pushed passed them and entered Alice’s room. She had been propped up with pillows, several medical tubes connected her to the various machines scattered throughout the small room. Her cheeks had sunken, but her eyes were ablaze and she managed a weak smile when he entered.

“Raymond,” she croaked and squeezed his fingers when he grasped her hand.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” He smiled at her and leaned down.

“I’m alive,” she began to cough, and gratefully accepted the proffered glass of water. “Thank you,” she managed after several sips.

Raymond placed the mauve plastic cup back onto the small bedside table, “Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

Alice nodded, “Yes.”

“Good girl,” Raymond pulled up a chair and pulled a small notebook and pen from his jacket. He flipped it open to a fresh page and quickly jotted down the time, “Did you see his face?”

“Not clearly, no.”

Raymond scribbled something in his notes, “What did you see?”

Alice sighed and closed her eyes, trying to recall every detail, “His teeth... he had fangs. Small, sharp, and very white.”

“Good,” Raymond encouraged, “what else?”

“His jaw was angular, clean shaven,” she opened her eyes. “I didn’t see much.”

Raymond glanced up, “You remember some, and that is what is important. Did he have an accent?”

Alice shook her head, “Not that I could tell, but he was trying really hard to disguise his voice.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he was talking deeply almost with a forced growl,” she tilted her head to the side, “It kind of reminded me of Christian Bale’s Batman voice. You know what I mean?”

Raymond shook his head, “I don’t know who that is.”

Alice, obviously flustered, sighed loudly, “It was like... um...” a flurry of movement at the door caught her attention. “Raymond.” She glanced nervously at him.

“Ah, Amanda,” he quickly stood and ushered the Lieutenant into the room. He stopped when he noticed the tiny wounds on her neck, his brow furrowed.

“Raymond?”

Alice’s small voice broke him from his thoughts, “I’m sorry,” he looked away. “This is Lieutenant O’Roarke from the NYPD. She is consulting on this case.” He lead Amanda to an available chair near the bed, “She can be trusted, Alice.”


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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 12th 2014, 8:58 pm

Amanda noticed the expression on Raymond’s face, as well as the direction his eyes had been when it had changed. He found the marks on her neck that Adam had left behind. With a subtle shake of her head, she explained with a simple gesture that she would explain later. Her gaze switched to the young woman on the bed. She took in the bruises, the sheer exhaustion on her face. The girl had been through hell and back and had ended up having another scare. The deer-caught-in-the-headlights look was evident and she virtually flinched at nearly every gesture that everyone made. Amanda had seen that look on the faces of various survival victims before. It was the look of terror that it would happen again, and if the nurse hadn’t interrupted, Alice’s nightmares just may have been replayed.

She took the chair Raymond led her to near the bed and sat down, crossing her jean clad legs. Since her jacket had been slightly water-logged from her emergency phone call, she had left it behind at the hotel. She pushed the sleeves of her shirt back, exposing the intricate tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. The symbol of the Bilderberg Group. It was something her father had branded into her skin himself when she was young. She may not be an honorary member, but she was one of the chosen few who knew their secrets in order to protect them.

“Hello, Alice. As Raymond told you, I am Lieutenant Amanda O’Roarke. I work for the Homicide division for the NYPD and I’ve been charged with your sister’s case. I want you to know that I will not rest until we find the one responsible.”

Amanda reached back and pulled a small notebook from the back pocket of her jeans. “I know that this is a painful situation for you so if you feel uncomfortable at any time, or feel that you can’t continue with answering any questions, I want you to tell me and we can try another time, alright?”

She watched, for a moment, the way the girl clutched at her bed sheet. The grip was white knuckled for a brief moment before her fingers relaxed their grip. “I am not going to plaster you with questions unless I feel they will be necessary. Instead I want you to start your story. Tell me what happened from the beginning. Tell me what you did on the morning you were abducted.”

It was a fairly new tactic she was trying, allowing the victim to tell their story instead of asking the standard; and what Amanda considered, cold questions. Standard questioning always felt too much like an interrogation. It didn’t seem personal-able. She wanted to become friendly with Alice in order to earn the girl’s trust. Earning her trust would ensure that more details and more of the story would come to light.

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 14th 2014, 11:52 am

Alice glanced at Raymond, searching his expression for any indication that she should hold back. He smiled at her, a warm reassuring gesture, and nodded his head, “She can be trusted, dear.” He gently patted her hand, encouraging her to be forthright.

Alice swallowed hard and turned back to the Lieutenant. She was a striking woman in both appearance and demeanor, and Alice found herself immediately taken with her. She was suddenly relieved to have the opportunity to talk with another woman. Normally, her days were spent doing intensive research, trapped in the dusty archives of the New York office, with only male coworkers to keep her company. She had no other family, now that Rose was dead, and Alice felt the sudden and intense need to fully trust Amanda.

“I was in the archives,” she began, “Compiling a comprehensive analysis of the windigo. I needed to have it ready by nine am for a group of hunters who have been investigating a series of kidnappings and murders in Nevada.” She paused for a sip of water, “No one else had arrived yet, so I was alone.” She handed the glass of water back to Raymond who had been quickly jotting notes in his book. “I was waiting for the hunters to call me, you know, to give me a fax number. They are always moving around,” she glanced at Raymond.

“What happened next?”

“Well,” she sighed, “I was waiting by the phone when I heard rustling coming from behind the stacks. I didn’t get up because I thought it was Aaron or Mike coming in a little early.”

Raymond nodded, “Aaron Miller and Michael Stanwick.” He glanced at Amanda, “Junior members and lead researchers in our New York office.” He cleared his throat, “Continue, dear.”

Alice nodded, “Well, as I said, I didn’t get up because I thought it was one of them. I didn’t hear anything else, but I do remember feeling something heavy hit me from behind.” She painfully lifted an arm, tubes dangling from her skin, and indicated the back of her neck, “I don’t remember much after that.”

Raymond finished writing and looked at Alice, “Do you remember anything about him? The Surgeon?”

Alice winced at the name, “Just the teeth.” She shivered, “Small and pointy and white. Obviously vampiric in size and shape.”

“Did he say anything notable?”

Alice shook her head, “He didn’t say much of anything, actually. Not that I remember. There was music playing in the background. Christmas music. Old Christmas music. Like Elvis or something.”
Raymond nodded, “Good. What else? Remember anything about the place he took you to?”

Alice nodded, “Smelled really bad. Like someone spilled bleach everywhere and didn’t clean it up. And the table was metal with little holes in it.” She glanced at Amanda, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember much. I don’t even remember being found by the police.” She stopped and choked back the tears, “I don’t remember Rose being there either.”

Raymond quickly grasped her wrist, “It’s okay. I think we have enough for now, right Lieutenant?” He nodded at Amanda, “Get your rest, Alice. We have fresh new guards outside, competent guards, to keep an eye on you.”

He rose and gently kissed her forehead before following Amanda out of the room. The door quietly shut behind them, “If you’re free, Lieutenant, I’d love for you to accompany me to our research lab.” He was looking at his phone, “Looks like our investigators have something for us.”
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   January 26th 2014, 7:34 pm

Just because they appeared to be Vampire teeth didn’t mean that they were the real deal. Amanda had various homicide cases over the years with Humans who used dental acrylic to give themself Vampire teeth. It had even become a common practice among the Gothic crowd. Her mind was racing with the small amount of  information that Alice had provided. She had expected her to remember much. Not everyone had a photographic memory when it came to a terrifying situation. She supposed that she was one of the rare cases and tended to take everything in that was around her in virtually every situation. Though she couldn’t say for sure that she would be able to do the same if she was strapped to a psychopathic’s surgical table.

“Raymond, does the Bilderberg Group have an Archive or record of any and all Vampires ever made?” She inquired, making a few last minute adjustments in her notebook before flipping it closed and slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans. Reaching into her front pocket, she removed her cell phone and quickly tapped out a message to Adam, asking him if he kept a record or knew of one. If she couldn’t find one from Raymond and his group, she might as well try the source first hand. Once her text message was sent to Adam, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, making sure it was on vibrate. Though she was almost certain that Raymond had an idea of what she was doing, she still was testing a theory that she was quite ready to share just yet. Amanda wanted to toss it back and forth for a while, knock out any kinks that may be lingering behind.

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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   February 1st 2014, 6:51 pm

Chapter Five



“After we visit the lab, I’ll personally walk you through the archives,” Raymond pulled the vehicle into an open parking spot. He killed the engine and glanced out of the windshield. “Welcome to our New York branch office.” He smiled, “Doesn’t look like much on the outside, I’ll admit.” He slipped out of the driver’s seat and waited for Amanda to join him on the crumbling steps. The old brick building appeared to have seen better days, though a fresh layer of snow now blanketed the ruins, giving it a hauntingly ethereal appearance.

“Careful,” Raymond warned as he escorted the Lieutenant up the steps and through the front doors; the peeling wood slab creaked loudly on its rusted hinges. He shut the door behind them and lead the way through an empty reception area. “No live bodies on this level, but our presence is very much known.” He pointed upwards, a soft red light blinked rapidly from behind the crumbling drop ceiling. “Cameras,” he explained. “A lot of them. We have someone monitoring all of the possible points of entry at all hours.” They moved quickly down an empty hallway, “This building may look like it is condemned, but it houses most of the Group’s collected information. Such information must be protected.”

***

Adam glanced at his phone; a message from Amanda flashed across the small screen. His brows furrowed slightly, she was requesting a list of all vampires ever created. Such a collection of names did not exist, at least not to his knowledge. He knew the Bilderbergers had tried to compile such a list many years before, they had even asked for his assistance, but they hadn’t even managed to scratch the surface. Their list was woefully incomplete, but he let them think they had succeeded.

“Adam?” came the soft voice.

He glanced up, “I’m sorry.” He slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, “An urgent message from a colleague.”

His companion raised an eyebrow, “A colleague?” She allowed a slight smile. She tilted her head to the side, tight ringlets of dark brown hair bounced around her face. Her caramel skin flawless in the dim lighting of the abandoned parking garage.

He nodded, “Tell me what you know.” He leaned against his car, “Please, Victoria.” His voice softened slightly.

She nodded, and pulled a folded sheet of paper from her jacket pocket, “We don’t have eyes on him yet,” she handed him the sheet, “But we have evidence that he was definitely in New York around the time of the latest attack.”

Adam opened the paper - it was the copy of a deed - his brother’s signature had been scrawled across the bottom.

“Looks like he bought property up in the Catskills earlier this month,” she pulled another receipt from her pocket, “Looks like he purchased a lot of medical equipment just days before the most recent abduction.”

Adam frowned, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Victoria laughed, “What do you mean? Of course it does.” Her dark eyes bore into his, “Your brother purchased everything he needed to set up his torture room, and just days before he took that Bilderberg girl.” She pointed at the receipts in Adam’s hands, “This is your brother’s handwriting.”

Adam shook his head, “I don’t... He couldn’t have.”

Victoria gently placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, “Time to face the music. Your brother is a killer.”

***

“Ah, Raymond!” A portly man greeted them outside of the lab. The men shook hands, “And you are?” The man scratched at his tangled beard.

“I apologize,” Raymond flushed slightly at the faux pas, “This is Lieutenant O’Roarke, I’m sure you have heard me mention her in the past.”

“Of course! The name is Thompson. Andre Thompson,” the heavy set man smiled warmly and grasped her hand, “You know, I used to work with your father. He was a good man.”

Raymond nodded, “You said that you had something for us?”

“Ah, yes,” Andre’s smile faded quickly and he ushered Raymond and Amanda into the lab. The room itself was small but cleverly organized with most of the instruments housed in glass covered shadow boxes along the wall. Most of the floor space remained clear and moving about the room was easy. A small metal island had been bolted to the floor in the center of the lab, and Andre motioned for them to join him at the table.

“Your investigators managed to pull several prints from Alice’s old room soon after the second attack,” Andre held up a large index card, several powdery gray prints had been taped to the front. “Keep in mind, please, that this is only a preliminary examination and I will require a little more time to confirm my findings, but...” He paused and pulled a magnifying glass from a drawer hidden below the table’s cold surface, “I am relatively confident with these results.”

“What have you found, Andre?” Raymond pushed.

“I’ve compared the fingerprints that were collected at the hospital and I have a match,” Andre handed the magnifying glass to Raymond and laid two index cards onto the table, side by side.

Raymond leaned forward and examined both cards, “They’re Alban’s.” Raymond breathed and quickly glanced up at Andre.

The heavy man shook his head and flipped one of the cards over, “No,” he pointed at the information scrawled across the back of the card, “They belong to Adam - his older brother.”
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PostSubject: Re: Mengele's Legacy   May 24th 2014, 2:05 pm

Amanda kept the expression on her face steeled into a careful expressionless mask. Her heart, however, dropped nearly to her feet. The prints were Adam’s. No, not possible. Her mind began to race nearly a million miles a minute, trying to piece together anything out of the ordinary with Adam’s behavior. Though it had been several years since she had last spent more than an hour with him, she wasn’t a hundred percent positive he would do a complete personality shift in that amount of time.

“Your positive?” She finally inquired, moving to join both men who continued to state down at both fingerprint cards. When they moved away from the scope, Amanda peeked through the eye piece herself. Loops, ridges and swirls. It all came rushing back from her college days in her Forensic Science courses. Both sets of prints were indeed a match. Planted perhaps. Amanda stepped back away from the microscope almost a bit too quickly, as if something had reached up through the lense and attempted to grab at her. She felt sick. God help her she still loved the son of a bitch.

“I’m going to need a copy of your report once it is finished, Mr. Thompson.” She finally stated after a few more moments of silence to compose herself. Her gaze shift up to briefly lock on Raymond’s face before she turned her back on the two men and left the lab.

Once out in the hall, Amanda let herself sag against the wall. This was not the time to fall apart. There was a psychotic killer on the loose that needed to be put down and no matter who it was, it was up to her to stop it. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to once again face the man she had once called lover.

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