Allyn and Ransom – 6

 

 

Grigore was restless—and frustrated. He knew how to relieve the frustration. Find a person willing and able to sate his sexual needs. That, however, would require that he leave the estate—something he was loath to do at the moment. Not until he knew that his latest victim hadn't been seen with him. He had chosen the young man at random as he'd left the masked ball two nights ago. He hadn't been his first choice. No. The handsome man in lavender was the one who had interested him. Grigore almost propositioned him when the man followed him across the ballroom. There had been something different about him. Something intriguing and yet…

 

Who are you? What was the power I sensed? Would you make a good playmate for my game? Perhaps. But how do I find you again?

 

He paced the great room of his manor house, paused to pour a glass of wine from the decanter on the credenza then hurried to what some might call his media room. To him it was only the place where he could keep up with happenings outside his personal realm which might affect him to one extent or another. At the moment, he needed to find out if the young man he had abducted to play his game was listed among the many missing persons in the city.

 

He tapped the On button for his computer, waited the requisite time for it to come to life then went online. It didn't take him long to find out that his victim had been the scion of a prominent—and wealthy—businessman.

 

Ellis Patterson, son of Jack Patterson, was reported missing after attending the masked ball held at the Harveston manor in the Garden District, the news article reported. He was last seen by two of his companions in the presence of a tall, dark-haired man as the pair drove away from the ball. The witnesses described the vehicle as a either a black or dark blue Mercedes coupe with, they think, out-of-state plates. So far, no one has come up with a firm description of Patterson's possible abductor other than that given by his friends. If anyone has any information they are asked to call the NOPD.

 

Grigore chuckled. Their description of the car was correct. However, it wasn't his. He had appropriated it from home of a passing acquaintance who, he knew, was out of the country at the moment—and had returned it once he had the young man sedated—using his own car to drive back to the estate.

 

By the time they'd gotten inside the manor house, Ellis had regained consciousness. Grigore had enthralled him, ordering him to undress. Afterwards, he'd implanted the idea in Ellis's mind that he had fed from him—an idea which had served to terrify his victim even more than he'd been already. Then, Grigore had locked him in a room in the basement created especially for the game.

 

If a victim had any sense at all, when they finally came to, they would find a way to leave—either through the small window high on the exterior wall or via the "carelessly" unlocked door concealed behind a rack of shelves. At that point, the hunt was on. If they didn't escape the room—then Grigore still fed well, although with not as much pleasure as when he hunted down his prey, the way he had done with Ellis.

 

Grigore finished reading the news article, and several others that also concerned the missing young man. In none of them did he find anything which said he would be recognized when he went into the city again. Still, he would wait for the weekend. Then he would visit a gala of one sort or another, where the elite flaunted their perfect lives in an attempt to prove they were far superior to the average man.

 

When he'd first returned to the city a while back, he had done as always—culled from the down-and-out living on the streets—those who wouldn't be missed. Now he went after the callow, narcissistic youth, male or female, with nothing better to do than idle away their nights in revelry.

 

He was the hunter, not the hunted. It had always been thus and he had no intention of that changing through his own stupidity—or frustration.