The Better to Eat You

The soft tap of shoes on the pavement sounded unnaturally loud in the alley at this time of night. Most people had sought their beds long ago, snuggling under the sheets and shutting out the terrors that roamed the streets in the early morning hours. It was what Lyssa would be doing if she hadn’t met him. Lyssa, sweet, warm and inviting, played through his mind and he wondered why she’d asked him to meet her in this place.


It was damp and vermin scuttled through mounds of trash spilling out of dumpsters onto the ground. It was not a place he would have associated with her. She was too refined, her taste too impeccable. “Why do you want to meet there?” he’d whispered into her ear as he nuzzled her smooth flesh. “Let me take you somewhere, intimate, romantic, somewhere beautiful.” She’d grinned slyly and pushed him away as a passerby sent them a censorious stare. In the end he’d agreed, not because he wished to indulge her, but because the place fit his plans rather well. He smiled to himself, and shrugged not wanting to waste time on trying to analyze her. She was different from all the others and it pleased him immensely.


There were no lights, only the moon and the dim glow from a window on the second floor. He ambled along, watching his reflection in the puddles that had formed during a recent rain. Gaunt was the only way to describe him. He was long, ropey muscles, with skin over skeleton, and very little else. There was not a bit of fat anywhere on his body, not even his face. His stomach was hollowed out, which meant his clothes never fit quite right. He had become accustomed to it over the years and didn’t worry about any of it. After all, looking good was not as important as maintaining his mental powers, which were vast. They required huge amounts of fuel in the form of thick, salty blood. While any mammal would sustain him, only humans seemed to keep his mind agile and sharp. Of course, he preferred humans, so maybe he was only imagining the difference.


He glanced around the darkened alley with expectation, but it was clear the woman he sought wasn’t there. Girl really, he thought. He liked them young and succulent, without the experience to thwart him, but apparently he’d somehow given himself away. Surprising, since he was careful and groomed his prey for months, gaining their trust and fattening them up, so to speak. It was rather repetitive, he admitted, but it did offer sweet anticipation and that lovely sense of betrayal they all felt when they finally realized what he’d done to them.


He searched the alley more thoroughly, striding back and forth until the pungent scent of blood attracted him. Behind a dumpster, he found a few splatters of fresh blood and one of Lyssa’s shoes. His eyes narrowed as he studied the ground. It was hard to tell what had happened, but the signs of a recent struggle were obvious. Several people at least, he decided. Rage and the unfamiliar stirrings of embarrassment flooded him. How dare they, he thought, whoever they were. Right from under my nose too, he chastised himself. Trailing one bony finger through a drop of blood, he brought it to his lips and licked it, breathing in its scent and identifying the different nuances. Under the coppery odor and metallic taste, was the tang of sweat and the musky flavor of male. Not Lyssa’s then, one of her attackers.


He swung around, following the tiny scarlet drops to the street. Here he faltered, the trail had become muddied. Smears of blood had been tracked in several directions on the soles of many shoes. It had been a long time since he’d stalked his prey in this fashion and for a moment, he doubted his ability to track them, but he’d invested a great deal of time already and couldn’t bring himself to give up so easily.


He advanced toward the curb slowly, noting every stain. Casting back and forth, he was soon rewarded by the discovery of a bold swath of red down the side of a parked car. It was a partial palm print, smudged and lengthened by fat, sweaty fingers. Bitten, he deduced. She’d bitten him on his hand, maybe his thumb. He crossed the street, and stood momentarily under the golden glow of the lamp. More drops and smudges marked the post. To his left were lighted storefronts and a few bars where people were still coming and going. Straight ahead were warehouses and fewer lights. Instinctively, he moved forward and was rewarded by finding Lyssa’s other shoe lying on its side, its heel broken. Not three feet from the shoe was a recessed door into an old junk shop. He pressed against the door and listened while examining the handle. The door itself was old and distressed with several colors of paint peeling from its surface. Two scratched and dirty glass panes set in the wood had wire mesh running between them. The handle was new and shiny with two dead bolts, one with a key on the outside, and a keyless one on the inside. Both were in place. His ears detected voices coming from the back and a smudge of blood on the knob settled it. It wouldn’t take much, he decided, to break in.


As he was contemplating whether to force the door or smash through the windows, metal and all, a high pitched squeal echoed through the store, setting his teeth on edge. Sacrificing caution and the element of surprise, he ripped the door from its hinges and flung it aside like a matchbook. The place fell silent immediately and he checked his forward progress, tilting his head to listen.


There was a tiny scuffling, bare feet against floor, and the more concrete sound of a stealthily moving body. He quickly melted into the shadows and waited, standing perfectly still. Seconds later, a form slipped out from behind a counter, skirted a dilapidated display of old fireplace tools and disappeared behind a shelf of used jelly jars. Another form, following the same path joined the first. Three, he counted, including one to stay with Lyssa. He dissolved himself slowly, letting each part of his body stretch and thin until only a wispy vapor remained. The mist slithered across the floor, curling and twisting as it went.


Faint light from the open door bounced off it showing it clearly, but neither of the men huddled behind the shelf understood what they were seeing. Even when little fingers of fog settled around the neck of one man, neither realized the danger. The second man turned to the first one only to see him jerk and hear a sharp, bone aching, crack. The first man slumped over. As his friend leaped up, ice-cold appendages clamped down on his shoulders and something sharp drove into his throat. He gasped in a final breath and twisted, flailing his feet as he was lifted into the air. For a few moments, he struggled and then slowly relaxed until he dangled limply in the arms of his attacker.


It had been so easy; he congratulated himself as he tossed the body aside. He was seldom surprised or intrigued these days, but he found himself completely absorbed. For the first time it occurred to him that it had actually been too easy. Drawing air through his nostrils, he located the strong scent of blood. Bending down to the body nearest him, he twitched the man’s arm from under him and flipped over the hand. There was a long deep gash in the palm. Something sharp, he decided, the edge of the dumpster perhaps. But why would the man have moved it, and now that he thought about it, why had he touched everything he’d passed?


Noises from the back room distracted him and he strode forward past the counter and through a ragged curtain. Lyssa huddled in the corner, her hair in disarray and her fist thrust into her mouth. A soft flickering light from a monitor on the floor danced across her face and he realized there was a camera in the other room somewhere. He gave her a passing glance and focused on the man at the back exit, shrouded in shadows, trying desperately to work the lock.


Centering his mind on the man took less time than he’d expected. When he could feel the other’s thoughts, he called to him. Softly, at first, savoring the touch of minds and the strength of the man’s fear. He ratcheted up the pressure now calling insistently, until the man turned. The voice turned sweet and seductive, starting the man moving toward him with a strange stuttering gait. As the man drew near, he clasped his shoulders and spun him around in full view of Lyssa. He sank his fangs deep into the man’s neck and watched her eyes widen and terror convulse her body. As soon as the last drop had passed his lips, he tossed the husk away, and crossed to Lyssa. Gently, with exaggerated care, he pulled her away from the walls, while she shrank back from him. She stumbled, almost fell, but he caught her and drew her against his chest. “I would never have guessed, Alex,” she murmured, her voice trembling.


A low rumble that became a laugh started deep in his chest. His mind touched hers, drawing the necessary pictures from the past. Shocking, delightful pictures detailing behavior that he would never have guessed. “I see we both have secrets.” He slid a hand down her spine eliciting a whimper. “How many men have you brought here?” He waited, and when she didn’t respond, he trailed a finger along her neck. “It’s a game isn’t it, a way to get them out of sight. Do you rob them?” She nodded, not bothering to struggle, but he could feel the tenseness of her muscles. “Have you murdered them?” Again she nodded, this time a sob escaped her. “How many Lyssa,” he whispered.


“Many,” she gasped. She was shaking with fear. He felt giddy with excitement.


“Wonderful,” he moaned licking his lips. “So much better than my game.” He stroked her back again. “It was fun chasing you, more fun rescuing you, even though you didn’t really need rescuing. I think I like playing the hero.” He felt the sudden change in her body; the beginnings of hope start to drift through her.


“You’re not…” she paused afraid to ask. He pulled her away, tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. He smiled and watched her gaze rivet on his fangs.


“Not yet,” he hissed, touching a fingernail to the soft spot under her chin. “I long to see what I’ll rescue you from next.”


Her brows pinched just a bit. “But I …” she broke off as he dug the nail in slightly.


He gave her a gentle shove backwards and put the nail with a tiny bead of blood against his tongue. “You’ll think of a new game where I can be a hero. Something exciting, with lots of twists and turns.” He walked away from her toward the door, stepping over the body of her friend. “Tomorrow, Lyssa my love. I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me.” He paused in the doorway, his body silhouetted by the moonlight. “Don’t disappoint me.” Then he strode away leaving her standing in the store surrounded by dead bodies and wondering what to do next. Halfway down the alley he began to whistle. Yes, he thought, I’ve allowed myself to become dull and boring. How fortunate I am to have met Lyssa.