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Kara strode down the sidewalk, the autumn leaves crunching loudly under her loafers as she walked. She loved this time of year. Halloween was almost here, soon the ground would be covered in a layer of crisp white snow, and Christmas music would greet her from every shop on her way. It was her favourite season.
She had been away for some time on assignment, embedded with rebels in Kaznia, but she was thrilled to be back home in National City. She loved traveling all over the world for her job as an investigative reporter, but...well, home is where the heart is, after all.
As she reached the edge of the city, where the sidewalks ended and the million dollar homes of the wealthy sprang up taller and taller the further you went, Kara paused and stared at the tallest home that sat high up on a hill, far away from the others.
The Luthor mansion was a legend in National City. Rumour had it that once, a wealthy family had lived there -- a wicked family -- that had adopted a young girl. The story went that the girl hadn’t fit in properly with her new family and so the Luthors had locked her away, abused her, treated her like filth, until one day, when the young woman had returned from a trip abroad with paranormal abilities and murdered the entire family. But this was never proven. No bodies were ever found, and the woman was never seen again.
The legend went that many men had tried to woo the elusive woman, hoping to marry into her wealth, but the only man who ever got close -- a Mr. Jack Spheer -- had died shortly after the honeymoon.
Naturally, the town’s imagination had run wild and the children of National City became convinced of the demonic nature of the reclusive Luthor. The Luthor Manor became the site of many a dare -- who could stay on the property longest, who would touch the wrought iron gates surrounding the estate -- typical childhood nonsense, but the story had always stuck in Kara’s mind. She’d often wondered about the little girl from the story.
Did she ever get lonesome on her own? Had she really murdered her family and her husband? Why did she never come to town?
She was so lost in thought that she hadn’t realised her feet had taken her to the foot of the hill the Luthor Manor rested on.
As she stared up at the imposing mansion, a group of children rode by on bicycles yelling a horrid little song about the Luthor woman.
Miss Luthor! Miss Luthor! Are you afraid of snakes?
I’m not afraid of anything except wooden stakes!
Miss Luthor! Miss Luthor! What was that thud?
‘Twas the body of my husband, drained of his blood!
Miss Luthor! Miss Luthor! Come stand by the fire!
I can’t, she cried, for I’m a vampire!
They continued as they pedaled away, their voices growing faint in the late October wind. Kara hated the songs. She hated the rumours. She supposed that if someone had made up hateful jingles about her, she would avoid the rest of the town too. A surge of protective spirit rose up in her over the unknown woman and she knew that she had found her next assignment. She would find out the truth of the Luthor woman and set the record straight.
The gate creaked and groaned as Kara pushed it open, her knuckles white against the black iron in her grip. A sudden wave of nervousness washed over her and she forced it down and pressed forward. There was nothing to be afraid of. The worst that could happen was Ms. Luthor would kick her off her porch and she’d have no story. Which is precisely why she hadn’t told Ms. Grant about this particular endeavour -- although now that she thought about it, it seemed rather stupid of her not to tell anyone where she was going.
As she made her way up the long, winding driveway, she noted that the grounds were well-kempt and groomed. No weeds sprang up and dotted the lawn. You couldn’t see that from the road, she thought. Not behind the stone wall that wrapped around the property. She wondered who cared for the grounds.
As she came upon the main house, she looked up at the imposing Gothic structure and -- for just a moment -- thought she saw a face in an upstairs window. A thrill shot through her stomach and she inhaled deeply. It was probably just a trick of the light, it had been too quick to be sure. She stepped up to the front door and lifted the big brass knocker attached to a serpent's mouth. An odd choice, she thought, but then she wasn’t really an expert in architecture or interior design.
Bringing it down in three hard raps, she heard it echo throughout the house and she waited. There was no answer. She knocked again. Nothing.
She was just turning to leave when the large mahogany door creaked open behind her. Kara whipped around in shock, but there was no one at the door. Peering inside, she gasped.
Whatever she was expecting, this was not it. It was sparsely decorated, crisp black and white, and exceedingly modern. Everything was clean and neat and Kara was afraid to wear her shoes inside.
A glossy black grand piano stood off to the side, its lid propped open and sheet music on the stand. A fire crackled off in the background somewhere, and to the right, a winding spiral staircase rose to the upper levels. Black candelabras hung from walls, emitting a soft white glow from each point. The shiny marble floors clicked under her boots and she had to walk on her tiptoes not to make a sound.
“Hello?” She called softly as she stepped further into the foyer. “Ms. Luthor?”
No answer. She pulled out her cell phone and began to snap some pictures of the interior. It was a beautiful house. She wondered who had done the remodel. A loud slam made her drop her phone and she turned around to see that the front door had closed, but there was no one there to have done it.
Kara shivered and reached down for her phone, cursing when she saw the shattered screen. As she stood upright, a figure stood in front of her and she screamed, dropping her phone all over again.
Kara took a few steps back and surveyed the person in front of her. It was a woman...a gorgeous woman. With emerald green eyes, porcelain skin, and ebony hair that hung past her shoulders in silky waves. She stood before Kara in a crisp black suit, a sheer lace blouse rising up her chest and over her throat. Towering black stilettos clicked against the marble as she took a silent step toward the reporter, a stern eyebrow arching high.
Kara tried to catch her breath. This had to be the infamous Luthor shut-in. But she was so...so…
“ Hot,” she breathed, staring at the woman advancing on her. Realising what she said, she sped quickly into an apology, stepping back toward the door.
“I’m so, so sorry. You’re Ms. Luthor, right? I -- I didn’t mean to intrude -- that is, the door was already open! I’m really sorry!”
Her back hit the door and her eyes were wide as the mysterious woman approached her.
“Who are you?” The woman asked, a hint of an accent in her words. “Why have you come here?”
Kara gulped. “I’m -- I’m Kara Danvers?” It came out like more of a question than it was. “I’m a reporter from Catco Magazine? I wanted to -- to interview you.”
The woman’s nostrils flared angrily. “You want to tell your version of my seedy little story to the world? Maybe write a bestselling novel? Start a podcast centred on figuring out what happened to the Luthor family, is that it?”
Kara furrowed her brow. “No, not at all. It’s just...I’ve always heard the stories -- we all have -- and I just wanted…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I just wanted to find the truth. Whatever it is. I’m not here for fame or fortune. I don’t even believe half of the stories I’ve heard, but I just thought...maybe you’d like to tell your side of things.”
There was a moment of silence while the woman surveyed her carefully. She stepped closer, her nostrils flaring again as if she was about to tell Kara where she could shove her story, but as she took a breath, Kara saw her eyes go wide and was surprised when she stopped in her tracks.
When she spoke again, her voice had lost the sharp anger it had held and she became much more cordial, her voice like melted chocolate.
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Kara. Kara Danvers.”
The woman gave her a sly smile that Kara couldn’t interpret and offered a cool pale hand for her to shake.
“Lovely to meet you, Ms. Danvers. I’m Lena Luthor. I’d be thrilled to tell you my story. Won’t you join me by the fire?”
Kara could have punched the air triumphantly, but she refrained out of professionalism.
“Sure,” she replied brightly, following Lena into the den, not quite believing her good fortune at the about face of her hostess.
Lena led her to a white couch opposite a black wingback chair and gestured for her to sit.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a little snack,” she said, sitting down on the couch next to Kara, her voice smoky, like aged whiskey. Kara couldn't help but notice again how breathtakingly gorgeous she was. Upon closer inspection, she now saw that one of Lena's eyes was blue, but they both smoldered just the same as they fixed Kara in their electric gaze.
Kara was rooted to the spot by the look, unable to move even if she had wanted to, which she very much did not . If Lena wanted a snack, she should have a snack. She was a snack. God, Kara was much too gay for this.
Lena gave her that sly look again and arched her brow keenly, like a serpent poised to strike. Kara suddenly understood the door knocker.
“I’m absolutely famished. ”
Kara watched as sharp, pointed fangs grew in the beautiful woman’s mouth as she leaned into Kara’s space.
Well , Kara thought briefly before the razor-sharp incisors ripped through her tan flesh, if this is it -- having a sexy vampire suck me to death -- then what a way to go.
She didn't even have a moment to laugh at the wording of her thoughts before the piercing, hot pain shot through her neck. She heard a moan of delight and felt the slow, sucking pull of Lena's mouth on her neck.
Lena’s breathy moans at the exquisite taste of her blood reached her ears and a chill shot through her body, landing in her clit.
Kara barely had a moment to register how unbelievably horny she was as she sat there dying before everything went black.