Warning! This is a horror/dark fiction story so may be disturbing to some. There is strong language and sexual situations.
Summer–for she had come to think of herself by that name, the sweet, flowery name Bobby called her–sat on the cool, tiled floor of the bathroom, searching the dazzling surfaces for traces of Eddie Gillette’s blood.
She was pleasantly full now, having supped at leisure from the human’s torn throat, draining his body entirely, and pleased that the problem of feeding, over which she had expended so much needless worry, had been so readily solved.
After she had finished with him, she had removed the soggy knitted covering from the man’s head, staring at his cruel features, and it had occurred to her that she could stay with Bobby for as long as she chose, slipping out when he was away to rid the streets of humans such as this one, who had obviously entered the apartment intent on doing harm to some human female. From her brief experience in the man-city she suspected that there was no shortage of such cowardly predators.
Satisfied with the condition of the bathroom, and pausing to admire her shining hair in the glass above the basin, she strode into the apartment’s main room and donned the garments she had taken from the female in the park. Anita Ruiz’s perfume still clung to the sheer fabric of the blouse and she felt a momentary pang of regret at having deprived the weeping human of her life.
Henceforth, she would be more selective.
Gathering up Anita Ruiz’s handbag and the keys and money Bobby had left, she opened the narrow doorway at the rear of the main room, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness on the stairway leading directly into the garage below. Eddie Gillette’s limp and bloodless corpse, which she had earlier tumbled down the steps, already lay tucked securely in the Accord’s rear storage compartment. It would be a simple matter, she thought, to drive to some remote area about the city and discard it before returning to the apartment to await the arrival of Bobby.
Descending the steps carefully in the awkward boots, she walked to the metal door to slip the interior bolt as Bobby had instructed her. She placed the dark glasses over her eyes before opening the door, glad she had done so as a wash of brilliant sunlight filled the garage. She looked down the narrow drive, then returned to seat herself at the controls of the vehicle, discovering as she inserted the key into the ignition and twisted the engine to life that her lips were curving upward at the corners.
She had smiled without thinking about it.
Reaching for the chromed shift lever, she pulled it to the first position as Bobby had done and looked out through the glass preparatory to easing the Accord out of the narrow space and down the straight path to the street beyond the habitations.
The figure of a male stood silhouetted in the opening before her. Although she could not distinguish his features against the glare of the sunlight, the reek of his pheromones was suddenly thick in the air.
Straight Razor Dan stood gazing into the dark opening of the small garage.
Gazing at the female behind the wheel of the customized Honda Accord.
Although she too was wearing dark glasses and her body was cloaked in the garments of the prey, there was no doubt in his mind as to her identity. The taste of her was thick in his nostrils and her fine pale skin glowed against the dark background of the interior.
A sudden feeling of pride rose up in him as recognition registered on her face. She must be extraordinarily strong and resourceful to have arrived in the city, found a place to nest and mastered the art of walking among the prey of this new age in so brief a time since her first clumsy killing.
She would make a fine mate; a worthy bitch to birth and care for his offspring.
Removing the dark wraparounds, he fixed her in his princely gaze, stepping into the shadowy enclosure and leaning in at the open window of the idling automobile. He reached for the ignition switch, turned off the engine and lifted the lenses from her wide golden eyes.
He admired her fine profile for a long moment, then opened the door and looked appreciatively at the long, well muscled legs emerging from beneath the tight sheath of her skirt.
“Come,” he said in the ancient sibilant tongue known only to members of their race.
She hesitated for the briefest of moments before bowing her head to him. “Yes, My Prince,” she murmured in a humble tone. Getting gracefully to her feet, she dutifully followed him out into the dazzling sunlight.
Satisfied with her obedience, he turned on his heel and strode toward the black vehicle parked at the end of the drive. He looked back in annoyance to see that she had paused to close the metal garage door, hiding the shiny Accord from view.