throat. Her fists pound on my back and her legs kick. I like it. Her fear gives the blood a sweeter savor.
I feed, and feed, and feed. Suddenly the monster lets go, sated and satisfied. I pull my head away from her throat. Our eyes meet, she gives me a puzzled look and she’s gone. Her final breath sighs forth and she slumps in my grip.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her, and close her blank eyes. A wave of anguish passes through me. I’ve lost control again, and again an innocent has died. A choke of self-hatred grabs my throat for a second.
But there’s little time for sorrow. I lift her body under one arm. With care and speed I carry it from Poet’s Walk. As I pass the bush the demon landed in, I notice the foliage not the slightest bit singed. Sometimes, being supernatural has disadvantages.
My destination is a small copse of trees in a nearby park. I bend my strength, and my claws, to digging a shallow grave. “I’m sorry,” I tell my blameless victim once more as I lower her into it. Then I cover her up, and scrape the dirt so that the spot is indistinguishable from the rest of the grove. With even the slightest good luck it will be weeks before she is found. By that time there will be not the slightest trace of what killed her. My ass, as North Americans put it, and my kind are still safe.
So, I have received Ms. Richardson’s reply to my demands. It was the wrong one.
There’s little time before dawn. I head for a place of repose. I know my haven is compromised, but I have a bolt hole for such an eventuality. I haven’t survived this long by being careless.
Tomorrow, it ends, I think as I slip into the night.
* * * *
A low growl rumbles through me as I start awake. I smash free of the trunk I’ve secreted myself and the door of the closet it was in with a single movement. My eyes scan the bedroom of the seedy apartment I’ve rented looking for something to kill. Disappointment twists my face when I find that there isn’t.
With no destruction to wreak the monster withdraws slightly, allowing my intellect to the fore. I manage to slip my human face into place and restrain my rage a bit more. My evening’s routine allows me even more equanimity.
Once finished that, I phone Major Price’s contact. “Report, please.”
Mandy had made another trip the previous night to the place my surveillance team won’t go near. She was there for several hours and returned home shortly there after. Ms. Richardson has stayed indoors since. She has appeared at least once in every window on the first and second floors of her house. Christy left their residence two hours ago and has not yet returned. Another woman arrived an hour later. Her description matches Helen’s. A second person has just entered; a petite, fair skinned woman with rich auburn hair. It takes all my strength not to scream in rage at that information.
“I need one more thing,” I ask the man on the other end of the phone, “directions to the farmhouse that the subject has been using.” His voice shakes as he gives me the information required. It seems that my fury is leaking out.
“Very well,” I tell him then. “The job is done. Pull your team out and thank…” The phone goes dead without another word from my contact. I can’t help but smile in pleasure, knowing I can frighten brave men.
As I prepare I can feel the grim set of my face. A black sweater goes over my torso and similarly colored jeans on my legs. I pull new combat boots on my feet and my final touch is the black leather jacket with Kevlar implants. The garment would be heavy for a human but the extra weight means nothing to me.
I leave my hiding place, using a side entrance and drawing the shadows around me. I head for my enemy’s abode, taking roofs, back streets and alleys. I’m a lot less likely to be spotted that way.
Soon I vault the back fence of Mandy’s yard. With great care, examining the ground closely, I approach the house where our conflict
I feed, and feed, and feed. Suddenly the monster lets go, sated and satisfied. I pull my head away from her throat. Our eyes meet, she gives me a puzzled look and she’s gone. Her final breath sighs forth and she slumps in my grip.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her, and close her blank eyes. A wave of anguish passes through me. I’ve lost control again, and again an innocent has died. A choke of self-hatred grabs my throat for a second.
But there’s little time for sorrow. I lift her body under one arm. With care and speed I carry it from Poet’s Walk. As I pass the bush the demon landed in, I notice the foliage not the slightest bit singed. Sometimes, being supernatural has disadvantages.
My destination is a small copse of trees in a nearby park. I bend my strength, and my claws, to digging a shallow grave. “I’m sorry,” I tell my blameless victim once more as I lower her into it. Then I cover her up, and scrape the dirt so that the spot is indistinguishable from the rest of the grove. With even the slightest good luck it will be weeks before she is found. By that time there will be not the slightest trace of what killed her. My ass, as North Americans put it, and my kind are still safe.
So, I have received Ms. Richardson’s reply to my demands. It was the wrong one.
There’s little time before dawn. I head for a place of repose. I know my haven is compromised, but I have a bolt hole for such an eventuality. I haven’t survived this long by being careless.
Tomorrow, it ends, I think as I slip into the night.
* * * *
A low growl rumbles through me as I start awake. I smash free of the trunk I’ve secreted myself and the door of the closet it was in with a single movement. My eyes scan the bedroom of the seedy apartment I’ve rented looking for something to kill. Disappointment twists my face when I find that there isn’t.
With no destruction to wreak the monster withdraws slightly, allowing my intellect to the fore. I manage to slip my human face into place and restrain my rage a bit more. My evening’s routine allows me even more equanimity.
Once finished that, I phone Major Price’s contact. “Report, please.”
Mandy had made another trip the previous night to the place my surveillance team won’t go near. She was there for several hours and returned home shortly there after. Ms. Richardson has stayed indoors since. She has appeared at least once in every window on the first and second floors of her house. Christy left their residence two hours ago and has not yet returned. Another woman arrived an hour later. Her description matches Helen’s. A second person has just entered; a petite, fair skinned woman with rich auburn hair. It takes all my strength not to scream in rage at that information.
“I need one more thing,” I ask the man on the other end of the phone, “directions to the farmhouse that the subject has been using.” His voice shakes as he gives me the information required. It seems that my fury is leaking out.
“Very well,” I tell him then. “The job is done. Pull your team out and thank…” The phone goes dead without another word from my contact. I can’t help but smile in pleasure, knowing I can frighten brave men.
As I prepare I can feel the grim set of my face. A black sweater goes over my torso and similarly colored jeans on my legs. I pull new combat boots on my feet and my final touch is the black leather jacket with Kevlar implants. The garment would be heavy for a human but the extra weight means nothing to me.
I leave my hiding place, using a side entrance and drawing the shadows around me. I head for my enemy’s abode, taking roofs, back streets and alleys. I’m a lot less likely to be spotted that way.
Soon I vault the back fence of Mandy’s yard. With great care, examining the ground closely, I approach the house where our conflict
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