The Renfield Syndrome by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 52

The next morning found him rising with the sun cresting over the horizon. With most hotels, a continental breakfast is rather meager. But the hotel Caspian was staying at seemed to have a different view of what a continental breakfast should be. Leaving his room, he walked down the corridor and past the desk, where he saw a large sign pointing to what appeared to be a conference room. Walking in, he was shocked to find tables and aluminum hot trays containing all manner of breakfast treats—cereal, French toast, sausage, waffles, and several types of juices. The room was immaculate and reflected the well-to-do and businessmen who traveled the country expecting to be received as high rollers and often got what they wanted.

After an hour, Caspian left the hotel lobby with a full stomach, and walking across Route 51, entered Franklin Park Mall. He was amazed at how spacious it was, as the broad corridors seemed to stretch on forever. He was at no shortage of money and could buy whatever he wanted, but, knowing he would soon leave again, he refrained, unless he discovered something he could not do without. Walking until his feet ached, he was overwhelmed by the sight of so much merchandise, lights, and the murmuring of growing crowds. Finally, unable to take another step, he sat on a bench across from the food court and, with tired eyes, slowly examined his surroundings. Not too far away, a young woman had also found an empty bench, but there was something odd about her appearance. Her face was covered with stark white makeup, and her hair dyed black. Her clothes seemed right out of the Victorian Era with lace and frills, yet the fabric was also black. Curious, Caspian got up, and sitting near her, tried to strike up a conversation. “I’ve never seen anyone dressed like that before,” he said.

Without making eye contact, the woman responded with a hint of attitude.

“Yeah, well,” she replied. “Not everyone can be Goth.”

Caspian had never heard this word before. Having come from Johnstown, with a population of under ten thousand, he had lived a somewhat sheltered life. He didn’t want to seem stupid, but he had to ask what she would see as an obvious question. “What does Goth mean?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of that before.” Turning towards him, she expressed disbelief at his lack of worldly knowledge, assuming that everyone knew of the existence of Gothic culture.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.

Caspian smiled faintly and asked another obvious question.

“Was it that noticeable?” he replied. Turning to make eye contact, she smiled from the corner of her mouth. “I would say so,” she answered. Through her half smile, Caspian noticed something that stood out as a glaring detail, something anyone could see only if she allowed it. “Are those fangs?” he asked. Smiling broadly, she revealed a set of two gleaming fangs, leaving him with the impression that they were plastic— something stuck on her real teeth. No one would be foolish enough to have their teeth ground down to points in spite of how arousing it was. “Yeah,” she replied. “You like them? My dentist did a great job.” Caspian was more than taken aback. He was both shocked and aroused. But the voice in his mind made its wishes known.

“We have to have those,” it said. “Imagine how much easier it would be.”

When it spoke, it didn’t say much but still conveyed what it wanted, and this was no exception. For a moment, Caspian imagined how much faster the process of killing a target would be with teeth filed down. However, he would not be satisfied with just fangs. He wanted every tooth filed down. “So,” he said. “Where do I go to get that done?”

The woman smirked slightly. “You really want to be sure about this,” she said. “Because it's permanent.”

With his fascination with vampires coming to the surface, Caspian responded immediately.

“That’s what I want.”

Now, she revealed something else about her unique dental work. “You know,” she said. “A lot of the guys I’ve dated get pretty turned on by these—until I bite them. For some reason they can’t handle that, but that’s not my problem.”

She saw it in his face and the way he repositioned himself on the bench. Caspian had become aroused. But this would be his only chance to back out. “I can hook you up with my dentist, if you want,” she said. “But you’ve got to be sure of this. After he’s done, there’s no going back.”

Caspian had heard enough and made up his mind to have his teeth filed. They would soon become the perfect weapon.