The night was still and the usually cool, dry air was becoming humid. A girl sat on a bench overlooking the river.
She was waiting.
For prey.
He came, walking swiftly, the slight rustle of his trenchcoat revealing his presence only to those with preternatural hearing.
Like this girl.
She looked in his direction, pretending not to see him in the shadows. Tapping her fingers on the bench she sighed and looked at her watch, and turned to look aside. He leapt and threw his right arm aound her neck, hoisting her upright while he locked his gun at the small of her back.
"Give me all your money,"he snarled,"now."
She drew a sharp breath, as though shocked, and trembled.
"Sure," she whispered, "but it's, well, in my skirt."
What?" He snapped. But the girl's mini was too small for pockets. "
"No pockets." She laughed nervously,"I, er, need to bend over and reach under my skirt."
The man stepped back and leered,"Go ahead."
The gun was no longer pointing at her and even if it was, could never fire a shot that would hit her. As it was, the man watched her bend down with a sick grin on his face. Deliberately, she hitched up her skirt higher than was necessary. The man lunged forward, catching her round the waist, but before he could take another step, he found himself on his back with the breath knocked out of him.
Staring up at the orange streetlamp in shock, he felt a small hand caress his cheek. Turning, he saw the girl, her young features in a grin that revealed her to be far older than he could ever have imagined.
"Betcha never met a bat from Hell." She whispered as she embraced him.
A sharp, delicious prick on his throat made his body jerk as it lay prone on the kerb under the orange glow of the streetlight. The girl leaned over him, her face hidden behind a sheet of black hair, as though frozen in the motion of kissing him goodnight.
When she did get up, she licked the puncture marks on the unconscious man's throat and watched them close.
She propped him up against the bench and smiled at him, a drunk fallen asleep by the road before he could get home.
Suddenly, she whipped around, stepping lightly to one side as a bullet zipped past her face. It would have hit her squarely in the left temple.
A tall man stood in the doorway of the apartment block across the road. She should have sensed his presence before. His gun shook ever so slightly, and on closer examination, she found he was one of her kind. He cocked the gun again - it was this click which had alerted her - and fired.
She dodged it and leapt across the road, deftly lifting the gun from his fingers before he could react. All he had done was blink after firing, and he found his own weapon pressed dangerously to his family jewels.
They stared fiercely at each other's eyes. Hers deep blue, his an artificial amber.
"You want to talk?" She said, her voice tinged with sarcasm and exasperation.
:: dream1050 ::
Chapter 2 - Inside
Chapter 3 - Evanescence
Chapter 4a - Visions
Chapter 4b - Metaphors
Chapter 5 - Awake