Prey

      She retains souls in a skull she wears about her neck. The souls drip off her like putrid rancid things. Life ebbed and flowed forth in waves of rot of the men eaten and consumed for heart and health. Such is the way. A life taken and a life given. The life is hers, as is skull, the souls are not. Though one could argue that due to possession, they are. It matters little. At this moment, her skull stands erect, chad in flesh, upon her neck. It is a pretty thing, the neck. Thin and delicate, seemly too weak to hold a loft the bone and flesh of that make up her facade. That happens to be pretty as well, the flesh, the face, that is. I look at her, it is hard not to. The beauty is breathless, it attracts the attention, no, demands it.

      I have a problem with that. It has been my experience that women that beautiful are aware of it. This causes issues, whether you wish to merely bump uglies or pursue a proper courtship. Either way she would be tough to pin down, or should be. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. A woman such as that should be a hard won prize, paid for drinks, witty banter, halfhearted promises, but no. For the last few days I have watched her accept the advances of any man. She would leave with them, misbegotten apes or refined gentlemen, and return an hour or so later, pert and yet hungry, never sated. The life oozed forth, overflowing, dripping rot from newly eaten life of her most recent prey. Idiots. Never did they see the wolf amougnst sheep in this beauty. She ate want she wanted, and the souls of the consumed bled in excess from her. Rolling from the crown of her head and bathing her in a cloak of death. And yet they came, more still. As I said, Idiots.

      Many may look upon her and claim death after such a ride would be worth it, thus proving my previous insult with their inane statement. It is never worth it.

      I know what she is and I planned to kill her. As such, I stalked her, like any good hunter. Firstly you must show respect for your prey, so I didn’t blunder into the kill. I need to know what she was, many may say vampire, but I detest the term. It is like saying bug, you many mean any number of insects and maybe even a spider, but it is not enough. So while this creature fed upon men and ate their souls she was more than that simple label would convey. And though she happened to be beautiful most of them weren’t. They came from humans, and human’s idea of beauty is in constant flux.

      At some point she has noticed my attention. Whether due to instinct of prey or hunter concerns me little, for she is both. I have been spotted and I must strike. I stand and stumble a bit. It is subtle thing, playing the drunk; the trick is not over sell it. A twisted slow gait, one belonging to a man deep in thought over the placement of foot, and yet somehow lacking a sense of the floor. I smile, confidently, full of bravo, my step has a swagger now since she returns my smile.

      I place my drink next to her; she fingers it, exquisite extremities stroking the rim of the glass and lips parted slightly in a smile.

      Her smile is something else; it alone is enough to explain the men who have fallen for her act.

      One of those finger tips dips into my glass and the liquor therein. Slowly, with the grace like a caress to the spine she brought the finger to her mouth. Her tongue came out; tip curved upward, face tilting faintly in eagerness. The soft pink flesh sought out the small drop of whisky collected at her wet fingertip. It enveloped the digit, like a sheath, wrapping it up and tugging it into her parted lips. She sucked upon her prize; eyes alight with pleasure, the corners of her lips tugging into a restrained smile.

      I doubted myself then, I still planned to kill her, I think. And yet and part of me wondered at the men she ate, perhaps it had been worth it. When she placed her hand upon mine, one finger still wet from her mouth, I wanted to go with her. She smiled again, which I returned. As she turned I felt myself waiver, worried she had rejected me, but no, her hand was still hold mine, pulling me behind her. I followed. I didn’t know if it was to my death or hers.