“Hey where you going, sweetheart? Come over here.”
“Damn, that’s a nice dress. Bet you look better without it though.”
“What’s the matter babe? We just wanna talk to you. You know, I think she likes playing hard to get-…”
SMACK
The sudden sharp noise echoed like a shot in the empty street. The “babe” in question had turned and delivered a swift backhand after one of the catcallers had reached out to touch her arm. The movement had been so fast, he had not had the chance to even blink before the violent blow had struck his face, the force of it sending him sprawling backward.
“I don’t wish to be touched.”
Her tone was cool, indifferent. The woman had turned to face them now and she stood observing them, her gaze passing slowly from one thug to the next with an air of detachment. She looked to be somewhere in her mid-twenties. Her dark, mahogany hair hung in loose curls about her face and shoulders, complimenting her porcelain skin and deep brown eyes, which were currently half-lidded in an expression of bored irritation. The black dress she wore clung to her curves in all the right places and extenuated her slender, hourglass frame. Unfortunately, it had also garnered her this unwanted attention…
“Hahaaaa! Did you see that?! She hit him!"
“Ah yeah! I like ‘em feisty!”
“You goddam bitch, how dare you fucking touch my face!”
The woman stepped to the side as the man lunged forward. He reeked of alcohol. After stumbling to maintain his balance, he cursed loudly again and fumbled for something in his pocket.
So far the situation had been pretty innocuous, and the woman hadn’t bothered to expend any more energy than necessary by simply walking away from them. Her brow furrowed, however, as she saw a flash of metal and realized that the lunatic was brandishing a knife.
Enough was enough. Besides, it was late. And she was hungry.
It happened so fast that the other goons did not see her move. They did not see the curling smirk, nor catch a glimpse of the pointed incisors as they buried themselves into the drunkard’s bulging red neck. In fact, it took several seconds before anyone could comprehend what was happening. Even then, the alcohol in their systems made them slow and stupid.
“…what the-..?”
“Holy shit, did she bite him?!”
Intoxicated blood was not her favorite, but it would tide her over until her next meal. It was actually a relief to get this quick snack, after her attempts to seduce a real prize had failed that evening. She had just left a popular night club, which was the reason for her tight-fitting dress. She had found a girl – a pretty, petite, young woman who had adorably clung to her for most of the night. The girl had talked and talked all about herself and her friends, all the while shooting her admiring looks and playful touches. And when she’d finally leaned close to ask for a name, the older woman had leaned in closer to breathe, “Mila,” …and had then grinned to see a pink tinge sweep across the girl’s cheeks.
Everything had been going so well. That is, until the girl’s friends had showed up to drag her away. Apparently, she was their designated driver. Mila had watched them disappear into the undulating crowd of people with disappointment, her stony expression a stark contrast in the midst of colored lights and upbeat rhythms.
At least she’d found replacements. Albeit, poor replacements. Mila wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand as the last of the men dropped dead at her feet. She had only taken a small amount from each one – their taste had been unpleasant, though it was never very easy to stop. As irritating as they had been, she didn’t particularly like piling up too many bodies like this. But there was no sense in leaving any witnesses. Even if they were too drunk to remember, Mila liked to play it safe. Which was why she would be out of the state by tomorrow. The small pinprick wounds on her victims’ necks would be well healed by the time she was gone.
So – a new city. A new life to begin. Mila’s ageless beauty made it easy to settle into a new location and she enjoyed the thrill of leaving everything familiar behind. As the vampire strolled away from the crime scene, she realized with a smile that her night with the girl might not have been such a waste after all. The little morsel had blabbed about a friend in a neighboring state looking tirelessly for a new roommate with no luck. It was a stretch, but it also wasn’t a bad place to start. Mila doubted it would be too difficult to find the girl’s advertisements online. This modern age made everything so easy in that regard. ‘The Information Age,’ Mila silently mused, licking a spot of blood from one of her fingertips. ‘Social media, faceless interaction..’ How different the world had become.
A few days later...
Mila looked at the address on her phone and back up again at the sign on the apartment’s brick façade.
RIDGEWAY FLATS.
This was it. The address from the girl’s listing. The apartment looked about mid-ranged, price wise. It wasn’t a luxurious building but its location was hard to beat. Located not far from the night life scene, it was a complex mainly populated by young professionals wishing to be close to work and play. The neighborhood was good and the area relatively safe, though somewhat secluded. At the moment, it seemed worlds away from the clubs and restaurants a few blocks over. Not a soul was in sight.
A street lamp suddenly flickered on, casting an eerie yellow glow in front of the stairs. The sun had just dipped below the city skyline, and the autumn air had begun to chill. Mila walked up the stairs a little ways before taking a seat on the cold concrete steps. She crossed her stockinged legs in front of her, high heels slipping slightly askew. She was dressed in expensive-looking business attire – a tight pencil skirt and a flowing white blouse. After a moment, she bent her head forward, letting her loose curls tumble forward to obscure her face. Suddenly everything about her indicated a person in distress. She might have been crying, and yet she didn’t make a sound.
She seemed completely oblivious to the world around her.
“Damn, that’s a nice dress. Bet you look better without it though.”
“What’s the matter babe? We just wanna talk to you. You know, I think she likes playing hard to get-…”
SMACK
The sudden sharp noise echoed like a shot in the empty street. The “babe” in question had turned and delivered a swift backhand after one of the catcallers had reached out to touch her arm. The movement had been so fast, he had not had the chance to even blink before the violent blow had struck his face, the force of it sending him sprawling backward.
“I don’t wish to be touched.”
Her tone was cool, indifferent. The woman had turned to face them now and she stood observing them, her gaze passing slowly from one thug to the next with an air of detachment. She looked to be somewhere in her mid-twenties. Her dark, mahogany hair hung in loose curls about her face and shoulders, complimenting her porcelain skin and deep brown eyes, which were currently half-lidded in an expression of bored irritation. The black dress she wore clung to her curves in all the right places and extenuated her slender, hourglass frame. Unfortunately, it had also garnered her this unwanted attention…
“Hahaaaa! Did you see that?! She hit him!"
“Ah yeah! I like ‘em feisty!”
“You goddam bitch, how dare you fucking touch my face!”
The woman stepped to the side as the man lunged forward. He reeked of alcohol. After stumbling to maintain his balance, he cursed loudly again and fumbled for something in his pocket.
So far the situation had been pretty innocuous, and the woman hadn’t bothered to expend any more energy than necessary by simply walking away from them. Her brow furrowed, however, as she saw a flash of metal and realized that the lunatic was brandishing a knife.
Enough was enough. Besides, it was late. And she was hungry.
It happened so fast that the other goons did not see her move. They did not see the curling smirk, nor catch a glimpse of the pointed incisors as they buried themselves into the drunkard’s bulging red neck. In fact, it took several seconds before anyone could comprehend what was happening. Even then, the alcohol in their systems made them slow and stupid.
“…what the-..?”
“Holy shit, did she bite him?!”
Intoxicated blood was not her favorite, but it would tide her over until her next meal. It was actually a relief to get this quick snack, after her attempts to seduce a real prize had failed that evening. She had just left a popular night club, which was the reason for her tight-fitting dress. She had found a girl – a pretty, petite, young woman who had adorably clung to her for most of the night. The girl had talked and talked all about herself and her friends, all the while shooting her admiring looks and playful touches. And when she’d finally leaned close to ask for a name, the older woman had leaned in closer to breathe, “Mila,” …and had then grinned to see a pink tinge sweep across the girl’s cheeks.
Everything had been going so well. That is, until the girl’s friends had showed up to drag her away. Apparently, she was their designated driver. Mila had watched them disappear into the undulating crowd of people with disappointment, her stony expression a stark contrast in the midst of colored lights and upbeat rhythms.
At least she’d found replacements. Albeit, poor replacements. Mila wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand as the last of the men dropped dead at her feet. She had only taken a small amount from each one – their taste had been unpleasant, though it was never very easy to stop. As irritating as they had been, she didn’t particularly like piling up too many bodies like this. But there was no sense in leaving any witnesses. Even if they were too drunk to remember, Mila liked to play it safe. Which was why she would be out of the state by tomorrow. The small pinprick wounds on her victims’ necks would be well healed by the time she was gone.
So – a new city. A new life to begin. Mila’s ageless beauty made it easy to settle into a new location and she enjoyed the thrill of leaving everything familiar behind. As the vampire strolled away from the crime scene, she realized with a smile that her night with the girl might not have been such a waste after all. The little morsel had blabbed about a friend in a neighboring state looking tirelessly for a new roommate with no luck. It was a stretch, but it also wasn’t a bad place to start. Mila doubted it would be too difficult to find the girl’s advertisements online. This modern age made everything so easy in that regard. ‘The Information Age,’ Mila silently mused, licking a spot of blood from one of her fingertips. ‘Social media, faceless interaction..’ How different the world had become.
A few days later...
Mila looked at the address on her phone and back up again at the sign on the apartment’s brick façade.
RIDGEWAY FLATS.
This was it. The address from the girl’s listing. The apartment looked about mid-ranged, price wise. It wasn’t a luxurious building but its location was hard to beat. Located not far from the night life scene, it was a complex mainly populated by young professionals wishing to be close to work and play. The neighborhood was good and the area relatively safe, though somewhat secluded. At the moment, it seemed worlds away from the clubs and restaurants a few blocks over. Not a soul was in sight.
A street lamp suddenly flickered on, casting an eerie yellow glow in front of the stairs. The sun had just dipped below the city skyline, and the autumn air had begun to chill. Mila walked up the stairs a little ways before taking a seat on the cold concrete steps. She crossed her stockinged legs in front of her, high heels slipping slightly askew. She was dressed in expensive-looking business attire – a tight pencil skirt and a flowing white blouse. After a moment, she bent her head forward, letting her loose curls tumble forward to obscure her face. Suddenly everything about her indicated a person in distress. She might have been crying, and yet she didn’t make a sound.
She seemed completely oblivious to the world around her.