"We're hot-bodied boys. Don't worry about us. You an experienced pilot?"
Callie grinned. "Well, we'll just have to see, won't we? Let's just say that I'm probably not losing my cherry up here."
William watched the gauges to make sure she took them high enough. At sixteen thousand feet, the Otter leveled off smoothly. Not too much wind up here today, and a view to die for. The plane was practically flying itself.
"This is not a real good idea, guys," the pilot warned again. "It's cold as a motherfucker out there."
"It's a great idea! And so is this!" William shouted.
He took her on the spot. He bit deeply into Game's exposed throat. He held her neck firmly with his teeth and strong jaw. He began to drink, to feed at sixteen thousand feet.
It was the height of sado-eroticism. Callie screamed and kicked, struggled fiercely, but she couldn't get him off. Bright red blood splattered around the cockpit. He was so powerful. She tried desperately to get out of her cramped pilot's seat and dislocated her hip.
Callie's knees cracked against the instrument panel several times, and then they stopped suddenly. Her brown eyes glazed over and became still as stones. She gave in. Both of them greedily drank her blood. They fed quickly and efficiently but couldn't come close to draining the prey inside the cockpit.
William then opened the plane's door. He was struck with a blast of freezing-cold air. "C'mon!" he yelled. The two brothers jumped out of the plane — free-falling.
It was a bad name for what they were experiencing. The sensation wasn't like falling, it was more like flying your body.
When the two of them went horizontal, they were soaring at about sixty miles an hour. But when they went vertical, they zoomed up to over a hundred miles an hour, closer to a hundred and twenty, William figured.
The thrill was incredible, absolutely amazing to experience. Their bodies trilled like tuning forks. Callie's fresh blood was pumping through their systems. The rush was otherworldly.
At these speeds, the slightest leg move to the left jolted the body to the right.
They got vertical quickly and stayed that way. Almost all the way down.
They still hadn't pulled the cords on their chutes. That was the best thrill of alclass="underline" the possibility of sudden death.
The wind pushed and pulled incredibly against their bodies.
The only sound they heard was the wind.
This was ecstasy.
They hadn't opened their chutes yet. How long could they wait? How long?
The only thing that kept this from being perfect, William was thinking, was the absence of pain. Pain made any experience better. Pain was the secret to pleasure, which so few understood. He and Michael did, though.
Finally, they pulled the cords, and they couldn't have waited a second more. The chutes opened, yanked hard at their bodies. The ground was rushing up at them.
They landed and rolled, just in time to see the Twin Otter crash and burn, maybe a mile away in the desert.
"No evidence," William said smugly, his eyes glazedwith pleasure and excitement. "That was such fun."
Chapter 31
THE CRIMSON TIDE. That's what William called their murderous tour. He and Michael were on a roll now, and nothing could stop them until the mission was over. Nothing — not rain, or sleet, or the FBI.
The Red Cross van drifted slowly along Fremont Street, the old original Strip in Las Vegas. It blended into the garish neon scene. Made them feel invisible. Like so many young males, William and Michael felt invulnerable. They would never be caught, never be stopped.
The killers took everything in — the ridiculous spouting fountains in front of nearly every casino and hotel, a wedding chapel with "Love Me Tender" crooning tinnily from a loudspeaker, brightly painted tour buses, like the one ahead of the van from the United Union of Roofers and Waterproofers.
"This is a true vampire's city," William proclaimed. "I can feel the energy. Even these pathetic worms on the street must feel alive when they're here. It's fabulous — so theatrical, glittery, overly dramatic. Don't you just love it?"
Michael clapped his large hands. "I'm in heaven. We can be choosy here."
"That's our plan," said William. "To be very choosy."
At midnight they drove out to the new Strip, Las Vegas Boulevard. They stopped at the Mirage, where the Daniel and Charles Magic Show was advertised on a large neon billboard that rose high over the busy street.
"Is this such a good idea?" Michael asked, as they approached the box office inside the hotel. William ignored him and picked up two reserved tickets for the magic show. They were both dressed in black leather with black engineer boots. Nobody really cared what you wore in Vegas anyway. The show was about to begin as they took two seats near the front.
Everything about the theater was spectacular and over-the-top. An enormous stage had been covered in spray-on black velvet. The backdrop was a thirty-foot-high metallic structure covered in rear-projection pictures that kept changing. Half a dozen techies worked the spotlights. The lighting conveyed spatial grandness if nothing else.
William used the candle on their table to light a cigar. "It's show time, my dear brother. Remember what you said — we can be choosy. Don't forget that."
The magicians' grand entrance onto the stage was a glittery nugget of eye candy. Daniel and Charles literally flew down from the rafters, at least a fifty— or sixty-foot drop.
Then the magicians disappeared — and the spellbound audience erupted in applause.
William and Michael cheered as well. The sheer speed with which the hydraulic mechanisms worked was impressive to William.
Daniel and Charles appeared again. The magicians led two small elephants, a white stallion, and a glorious Bengal tiger onto the stage.
"That's me," William whispered against Michael's ear. "I amthat beautiful cat. I am right at Daniel's side. He should be careful."
The sound system played Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" in computerized surround sound. The noise was as gaudy as the visuals. A powerful exhaust system vented out the odor of animal urine and dung. A semipleasant vanilla-almond fragrance was pumped in.
On the stage, meanwhile, the two magicians were arguing about something.
William leaned toward a handsome young couple who had just been seated at the cocktail table to his left. The male and female were in their mid-twenties. He immediately recognized them from a hit TV show. He couldn't decide which of the two actors was better looking. They were both so fly, so full of themselves. He knew that their names were Andrew Cotton and Dara Grey. Hell, he read EWand the tabloids in his spare moments.
"Isn't this amazing?" he asked them. "I love magic. It's so kinky and funny. This is hilarious!"
The female glanced his way. Dara Grey was about to put him in his place when she looked into William's eyes. Just like that — he had her. Only then did William bother to check out the rest of her: an electric-blue slip dress, vintage belt and jeweled shoes, embroidered Fendi bag. Nice, very nice. He wanted to feed on her.
This was going to be so good, so delicious.
Now he would seduce the boyfriend. Andrew, dear sweet Andrew.
Then — they would party until the dawn.
Chapter 32
THE TWO MAGICIANS continued to taunt each other mercilessly onstage. William's eyes drifted back toward the bright lights and the loud bickering. He smiled, couldn't help it. The magicians were part of tonight too, a big part, actually. Important as hell.