Bleeding Heart
Chapter 5 Strigoi

“I have some lovely, fresh specimens for you. We have two, new patients we’re drawing from; they look promising.”

“And a fine morning it is, Nurse Poplar.” Bakar Solo would then take her hand and kiss her palm, always keeping eye contact.

“Ah, and who are these new patients?”

“You know I shouldn’t tell you about the patients, Mr. Solo.”

Bakar was in his late 30’s, wiry and tall with thick, dark hair. His deep-set eyes were like black marbles nestled into high cheek bones. His aquiline nose, full lips and dark olive complexion intrigued Ben. Ben hired him after checking into his background; he was a loner with no known relatives. His last given address was Los Angeles, Ca. Bakar had skills Ben could use. The nurses at the care facility responded to his ready charms and, he was a quick study of the wine business. Ben also found Bakar to be an energetic lover.

This was the sweetest deal Bakar had come across in his career of get rich quick schemes, consisting mostly of being “arm candy” for some lonely, widow and the burgeoning business of internet scams. Being Ben’s lover was another cog in the wheel of fortune.

Bakar liked to keep up appearances and make personal calls to the nursing home.

“It isn’t a great, good morning without you, Mr. Solo!” Nurse Poplar cooed and cupped her breasts.

Bakar took her other hand and licked her fore finger, “What was that you said about those patients, Nurse Poplar?”

Mary Poplar stood there transfixed as he proceeded to lick each of her fingers as if she were the remnants of a chocolate mousse. “Abandonato and Cleese,” she murmured.

Bakar abruptly stopped licking, “You’re the best… Mary.” He took the specimens and put them into his lab sack. He gave her a wink and a nod and made his way to the medical records room.

He was careful not to attract the attention of Dr. Le Fleur, she was not so easily charmed. She was in her office with the door closed, he could hear her moaning and shouting. He lingered a moment longer outside her door and grinned slyly. A new client, he wondered?

“Good morning,” he heard a nurse at the front desk. “You’re here for patients Abandonato and Cleese? They’ve been taken to music room. You can go there now.”

Bakar hung back and caught a glimpse of Victoria and Daphne and thought, Victoria of the raven hair. This could be her lucky day.

Bakar followed the sisters to the music room, he fumbled with his bag as they both turned to look at him. He looked up and made eye contact with Victoria with a half grin. She quickly turned away and gave Daphne a scowl.

“Keep walking, pay that slimy little eel no mind.”

Bakar gave them time to get into the room before he continued walking. He watched them bend to embrace and kiss their husbands as they sat motionless in their wheelchairs. “But they’re so young! What are they doing here?” He lingered a moment and then returned to his original mission of going to medical records.

There was a very young and pretty nurse filing medication charts when he got there. No matter, thought Bakar.

“Hello” he said casually. “I need to verify some information on these specimens. Perhaps you would be so kind as to assist me?”

She smiled, “Who are you?”

“You must be new here. My name is Bakar Solo, I’m an administrator here. You’ll see me around, more often, I hope.”

“Oh, I see. Yeah, I’m new but this office is off limits to everyone but Dr. Le Fleur, head nurse Poplar and of course, me. Did you get permission to be in here?”

“You’re so very… efficient... er, I didn’t catch your name…”

“It’s nurse Immerhoch.” (She pronounced it Immerhock, an Americanized pronunciation of a German name.)

“Awfully formal, nurse Immerhoch. But of course, I got permission. I spoke with nurse Mary Poplar on the way in. Won’t you tell me your first name?”

“No, but what is it you need again?”

“Uh… the records for Abandonato and Cleese.”

Nurse Immerhoch quickly went to the appropriate files and put them down on the viewing table. She watched as Bakar took a seat and put his bag on the table to open the records. She stood by, watching his face as he looked at the charts and reports in front of him; his brow furrowed several times. He bit his lip and he rubbed his forehead.

“Got what you needed?”

“Yes, yes, everything appears in order.” He lingered at the table, smiling at her.

“If you’re finished, then I’ll refile those and lock up.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, I can do that.”

“Uh uh! Not on your life! Head nurse Poplar would have my head and I have no intentions of losing my job!”

Bakar stood up hastily and slammed the case file folder on the table. “Fine! Nurse Immerhoch; fine!” He grabbed his sack and pushed the door open as hard as he could. The door came to a slow, creaky close behind him.

As he was heading down the hall, he noticed Victoria was at the front desk and she seemed rather agitated. “I thought I told you to notify my sister and me if there were any changes, good or bad.”

“Ms. Collinson, please calm down. I am not the nurse in charge of your husband.”

Dr. Le Fleur’s door swung open. She buttoned the two, top buttons of her blouse and patted her hair and marched up to the front desk.

“What is the problem here, nurse?”

The color began to drain from the nurse’s face. “Dr. Le Fleur, I was just telling Ms. Collinson we are more than happy to keep her abreast of any changes in her and her sister’s husbands.”

“Which is absolute crap! I took one look at Cosimo and found bruises and scars around his neck! Leonard had similar scars and bruises. What is going on in this place?”

“Nurse, er, whatever your name is; you are relieved of your station.”

“But my shift isn’t over yet.”

“Then let me put it another way, you’re fired.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“But… what?!”

“Head nurse Poplar! Up front! Now!”

Mary Poplar was sidled next to Dr. Le Fleur in moments. “Yes?”

“Cover this desk or find another nurse to cover it. This person is leaving our employ.”

“Yes, Dr. Le Fleur, right away.”

Mary hurriedly threw the desk nurse’s belongings into a shopping bag and escorted her out the door.

“Now, Ms. Collinson, what can I assist you with? Step into my office where we can speak privately.”

Bakar gathered his bag and gave Victoria a nod as he passed her in the hall. Victoria gave Bakar a grimace.

Victoria took a seat on the other side of Dr. Le Fleur’s desk. Dr. Le Fleur nearly tripped getting to her desk, she made a b-line to grab a tube of KY Jelly resting on top of some folders in the hopes that Victoria hadn’t seen it. The cap wasn’t on the tube and it gushed its contents onto her hand. She desperately tried to keep hold of the tube, then threw it into a drawer.

Victoria sat calmly and silently watching. Dr. Le Fleur managed to get seated and just as unexpectedly, she sprang up from her chair. A humming sound came from the chair. Victoria was still poised. Dr. Le Fleur smashed some buttons on the control panel in the arm of the chair and sat down.

“Silly me, I was looking for some hand lotion and grabbed this instead from the one of the patient medication carts.” She proceeded to rub the KY into her hands. She pushed back her now falling hair with her moistened hands. “Now, Ms. Collinson, what seems to be the problem?”

“Dr. Le Fleur, what exactly happened to ours husbands? Why are there bruises and scars on them?”

“It’s common for patients to bruise when we draw blood. As you know, I am having them tested for a whole range of diseases and it takes quite a lot of blood for each one. The scars are secondary results from the needles.”

“They look terrible! Dreadfully pale! Did you leave any blood in their veins?!”

“They are a bit anemic but that will improve with time and nutrition… There is something you and your sister could do to help them…”

“What is it? Anything we can do to help, just ask!”

“You can donate blood for them.”

“Come to think of it, I am a match for Cosimo’s blood type and Victoria is a match for Leonard’s. That’s a great idea if you think that’ll help them!”

“You two look to be in fine health, I’m sure it will help. See nurse Poplar on your way out, she’ll set everything up for you.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better! I’ll tell Daphne… and thank you!”

As they rose from their seats, Dr. Le Fleur stretched out her hand to shake Victoria’s. Victoria’s hand slid out of Dr. Le Fleur’s. Dr. Le Fleur coughed and adjusted her now streaked glasses.

Bakar hastened down the hall before facing another encounter with Victoria and Dr. Le Fleur. He didn’t even give Nurse Poplar his customary good-bye kiss on his way out.

He rushed back to the manor, making sure to mention he had fresh blood samples to tend to as he brushed passed Mrs. Pallor.

Ben took him into his confidence in many areas of his business. Bakar nodded greedily when Ben slipped him a few biscuits of confidential information about a client.

His private label, Origins of the Gods, made only red varietals; Gamay Noir, Malbec, Syrah and a Pinot Noir. Ben did grow the vines so he bought grapes from the local wineries. He made small batch wines and priced them accordingly. The Gamay Noir was sold only to special customers. It contained an ingredient that was not on the label. Even Bakar was not privy to this information.

Bakar learned the process for making Ben’s specialty wines quite well, but he had a nasty habit of pilfering and sampling the product. Ben appreciated his fortitude for making wine but couldn’t risk having a thief in his midst and such a special wine could not go unaccounted for.

Ben could have simply dismissed Bakar, but he held a special place in Ben’s heart. Ben gave him a final night of passion and nursed the last drop of Bakar’s blood. Ben was not the kind of man to forgive, even in death. Bakar was unceremoniously chucked into a pine box and buried in an unmarked grave at Blanchet Manor’s Indian burial ground. A drifter who would not be missed.

But Bakar did not stay dead. He awakened and became panicked to find that he had been buried. He sensed the spirits of those around him did not welcome his presence. At first, he thought that he was dreaming, this couldn’t be happening. But the longer he remained awake, the profounder his panic became. He shrieked and then clawed at the box. He pushed on the lid and was perplexed as to how easily he pushed it open. The earth above him crackled and sprinkled his face. He emerged into a dreary, misty night.

He roamed the grounds, went to the house and tapped on the windows and banged on the doors. He did this until the first light of dawn, but he roused no one. He felt a weakness and a coldness he had ever experienced before. Shelter and darkness, he had to find them quickly.

Some of the strength he had when he opened the lid of his coffin, returned as he forced open the shed door.

“Aaaaaaaagh!”

“Old man, what is wrong with you?! Do you fucking live in this shed??”

“You! Why are you here? You’re dead! I buried you!”

“Spoiler alert, Hazard, I stand before you. So, it was you that put me in the ground!”

“The Maestru told me to bury you! I follow Mr. Cojocaru’s orders; to the letter!”

“He must be really pissed! It was just a little wine, I didn’t think he mind. So, my punishment was to spend the night six feet under…”

“The night? I buried you five days ago!”

Harry began to grab at his chest and stumble backwards, until he lost his footing. The morning light was beginning to filter into the shed. The picks and shovels on the wall came crashing down around Harry as he plowed into them. Bakar began to feel heat surging through his veins, the creeping sunlight burned his skin. He dove under Harry and howled.

Kert was walking the grounds, gathering bugs and leaves for his collection when he heard the cries. He dropped his basket and ran towards the shed, holding his clippers like a dagger. He found the door already open and slowed to a trot. There, he found Bakar, clutching Harry, using him as a shield.

He was thin, ghastly white with blood red eyes. Bakar began shrieking and demanding the door be closed. Kert turned and ran towards the house, hastily slamming the door behind him to find the Maestru.

Kert returned with a heavily cloaked Ben. “So, here you are. I wondered where you had gotten to.”

“Got to??? I was in a fucking box in the fucking ground!!! What have you done to me?”

“To you? What have you done to poor Harry? Oh, never mind, I can put two and two together… and there you are, the two of you!”

“Tell bug boy to close the damn door! Why am I in this pain?!”

“I must be losing my touch. I always liked you, maybe that’s why you didn’t die. Well, you can’t stay here. I’ll make arrangements for you, you can stay in my coffin for now until something more permanent can be decided.”

“Coffin? I’m not fucking dead!!”

“I know. Pity. Things would have been simpler for you if you were. You are now Strigoi, a family of sorts. Revered by some, reviled by others as you will soon find out.”

“What if I don’t want to be part of this family?”

“You have no choice, you see. I made you what you are now. You’ve been in that box for nearly a week, unusually long, but I guess these things happen. You’ll need blood, you can start with Harry, he’s not going anywhere. Better be quick about it though before his blood begins to coagulate and his flesh begins to rot, not a pleasant dining experience. You’re lucky, I had to start with rodents and the like.

You’ll find that the larger the animal, the longer you will be able to sustain yourself.”

“Rodents, blood… what the hell are you talking about?!”

“Strigoi, my friend. You may be more familiar with the term… vampire. Strigoi is Romanian, my mother tongue; it is much more… eloquent, wouldn’t you say? Kertner, show Bakar to his temporary lodgings. You’ll find it’s really quite roomy, comfy in fact!”

Ben purchased an abandoned warehouse in Portland for Bakar. He told him he could do what he wished with it, but he must never return to Bleeding Heart. Bakar agreed. He turned the place into an exclusive club and hotel called Strigoi’s Dank Shadoz. It was a six-story building, the bottom floor was a nightclub, a lounge and restaurant were on the top floor. Floors two, three, four or five were set aside as the hotel rooms.

It enraged him that he could not roam freely in the daylight hours. He wanted in on Ben’s secret. He deduced it had something to do with the wine. He had tried them all. It was only after experiencing the Gamay Noir did he notice a curious sensation in his body. He wanted more of it but now, he had no access to it. Ben would not sell it to him. He tried to tempt him by sending him pretty boys and girls but they failed to impress Ben to the extent of getting him to reveal any of his secrets or persuade him to let Bakar have the wine.

Ben did not concern himself with Bakar. He was annoyed yet flattered while Bakar would go to such lengths to get his hands on his wine. Ben tolerated him; for the time being.

Origins of the Gods gave Ben some additional cash flow and a necessary foothold in the community. He was a welcome sight for the wine growers. The women couldn’t move fast enough when they saw the Rolls Royce pull up. Kert was of course, driving. It was always a grand entrance, like the arrival of a rock star. Some of the women said he looked just like Elvis, some said Al Paccino or Bruce Willis whereas the men would say he looked more like Carey Elwes or Michael Douglas with a few Sean Penns and Alan Rickmans added to the mix.

“Ah, the smell of unbridled lust at dusk,” Ben smirked to Kert, who sat erectly and kept his focus on the road in front of him.

It was always a very personal service and experience for both customer and client. His honey flavored words would ease into their ears and slither down their throats, garnering him the best of their grapes’ yield. They knew what he was looking for and they gave it. He would lick his lips slowly and savor all the pretty women, young girls, the men and boys; and the grapes, too, as it was not only wine grapes he came for. With some of his selected partners, it was purely for sexual indulgence; some, to maintain homeostasis and some, for both purposes.

Ben’s signature wines soon took a foothold in all the local establishments, many of which were in Portland. His focus was, however, Bleeding Heart. The grounds of his Manor housed his private cellars and he would hold lavish parties featuring his wines in his Manor. Among the invited guests were local government officials, the police chief and his latest fancies of choice. Only those with the highest influence would partake in the drinking of the Gamay Noir, Iubirea de Noapte, or Love of Night. He would toy with those of lesser importance as he saw fit but with the upper echelons, he would treat them lavishly with wine and late night orgies.

Bakar ached to part of Ben’s inner circle. He did his best to try to get Ben to notice him and his club. He too, would hold extravagant, private parties replete with orgies on his sixth-floor penthouse suite. He would be just like Ben.

Bakar’s parties began with his henchman, Wolff, a tall, Strigoi with a beautiful smile; gleaming white teeth and shiny, black eyes. Wolff could be very charming but he was not one you’d want to cross. He would usher the guests up to the sixth floor. He did not speak to the guests unless it he found it an absolute necessity. The guests would follow him across the hall to the large wooden doors of the suite. He would slowly open the doors and motion the guests in as he closed the doors behind them.

Frances, Bakar’s arm candy, would take the guests from there. Frances was a tall, slender Strigoi with fine features and piercing blue eyes. He would have the waiters bring champagne for the guests before leading them to Bakar. Bakar greeted all of his guests with, “Welcome. Relinquish your souls.”

The highly polished, glossy black floor reflected the gleaming, flashing lights of disco balls. Dancers mused at their reflections twirling across the floor. Guests were caught up in their own pleasures and were less likely to notice Frances and their host cast no reflections with the spinning lights riveting around the room. The décor was done in purples, blues and grays with crushed velvet couches on platforms, obscured by pink, see-through curtains. Guests were eager to partake in the promise of an orgy.

Bakar had hoped to appeal to a wealthy clientele however, without much success. Portland wasn’t to hit a growth in population and economics until the 1990s and even with that, Bakar lacked finesse with people. He was hurried and clumsy and came across as a snake oil salesman. He was forced to reduce his prices for his exclusive parties. Frances and Wolff were tasked with canvassing the dark corners of the city to entice party goers for the ‘soiree of a life time.’ Primitivos were everywhere and eager for a newer and darker experience.

Bakar would ply his guests with an assortment of refreshments like Colt 45 Malt Liquor, Everclear, Thunderbird and Night Train, pot, meth and Ecstasy while they danced and ate shrooms; Roman style on floor pillows. Frances chose the driving beats tunes to keep the guests moving and wanting more of everything. Bakar would ring a dinner bell when it was time for the orgy to begin. While the guests became sufficiently inebriated, he would choose his partners for the evening. Everyone wanted to be the ‘chosen one’, it was part of the selling points that Wolff and Frances would entice them with. Bakar’s l’amour de la soirée; was also his evening meal. Of course, he would play with his food before he ate it. Those poor souls were destined to become his live stock. And his labor force. After he dined on them, they were scurried away to dwell in blackened rooms on the unused floors and summoned after sunset to do his bidding.

Still, Bakar was jealous of Ben and increasingly agitated that he could not get his hands on that wine. He was sure that Ben had somehow achieved his godlike existence from the wine. Or, perhaps, there another way; he wondered. He used to pick up blood samples from the nursing home for use in Ben’s wine. That much he was privy to. He speculated the patients themselves could be the key.

That’s when Bakar began to send Wolff off on night raids for patients at the home. Some of them were so incapacitated that they didn’t give Wolff any resistance. Wolff would appear in their rooms and flash that beautiful smile and they would submit. Wolff could walk or wheel them right passed the night security guard. He had made prior arrangements with the night guard. A promise of some local herb kept him at bay. He then loaded the patients into his van and took them to the warehouse, where he would lock them into vacant rooms on the second through fifth floors.

Bakar didn’t work out all the details of explaining the disappearance of the patients. He had gotten what he was after and that was all that mattered. Their disappearances, naturally, created quite a stir. Dr. Le Fleur was left with the task of investigating the vanishings and keeping it quiet from the families and the papers. She rigorously questioned all staff members and put in security cameras. The cameras never caught anything out of the ordinary. Ben was not happy.

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