The warehouse was cold when she entered. Her fear, amplified by the chill in the air, made her shiver noticeably as she walked out of the hot sunshine into the cool darkness. Her eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the dim room, the dust seeming to hang in the air indefinitely. It was
She walked down the back alleyway, trying to be small and unnoticed. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this or even if there was something other than walking down a trashy alley that she was doing. This place was legend. A friend of a friend knew a guy…that sorta direction, but she had to
Part I, The Hunter He paused and sniffed the air, and caught the scent of the prey. She was near and yet far; she was scared and yet excited. She knew death was following her, and in a strange way, she welcomed it, longed for it. That is the paradox of mortals. They fear death
The music was deafeningly loud. The beat almost supplanted your own heartbeat as you entered the dance club and were assaulted by the primal rhythms that rocked the air. The squeal of guitars and counter tunes of synthesizers split the air in a discordant symphony that sounded like sex. There was nothing else that came
Her body was lithe and deadly, tight in all the right places and long. She gave the definite appearance of a cat as she walked into the room, the grace of her steps, the power of her muscles. There was nothing that was not feminine about her, she oozed the sensual glory of a woman
He was hunting her. Of that there was no doubt. It was only natural that he do so. He was, after all, a hunter of flesh. It was in his nature to seek the flesh and all the wonders it held. Mortals could never understand with their “conventions of society”…the niceties they passed to each
