He’d watched her for almost a week. Every killing, the same m.o. She’d arrive after sundown. Always after sundown. Her kind always hunted at night. She’d used many names as she went from city to city, but in this town, she called herself “Elle.” Night after night, she’d go to the Nocturne, a trendy Goth club in the upper-class district. She’d be inside for a few hours, then emerge with someone. Sometimes her companion was a man, sometimes a woman – she didn’t discriminate. And he always followed the pair back to Elle’s place.

Whomever Elle brought back to her place never left again.

He saw it happen time and time again. He could’ve felt guilt – all he’d have to do was get her before she went to the club, or follow her inside and finish her there. But her knew from experience that you never, ever made contact without thoroughly studying the subject. Being anxious or impetuous could mean a certain end. So he did the same thing night after night, and saw the faces of those who followed her. The look in their eyes showed they never even considered the possibility of what was going to happen to them.

But tonight he’d waited long enough…


*


“Can I join you?”

Elle turned and looked up at the man. She smiled, a perfect pearly set of teeth glimmering in the club light, and nodded to him. She was dressed in a gauzy white blouse, the trace image of her black bra barely visible beneath, and a small leather mini-skirt. He pulled out the chair next to her and settled in it. She reached out a hand to him. “I’m Elle.”

He took her hand, and lifted it. He gave it a gentle kiss. He said to her, smiling back, “Ryan.”

She shivered playfully. “Ooh, a gentleman!”

Ryan released her hand. His blue eyes twinkled as he said, “So I’ve been called, once or twice.”

Elle laughed with him. She tossed back her blonde hair. “I meant in here!” She looked about the club, shadows and shapes about them. Black-clad figures danced and laughed. “Everyone in here is in their own little world, you know.”

He surveyed the group. “You stood out pretty easily.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“You don’t seem the type to hang out in this kind of place.”

“I’m…" Elle paused a moment, her dancing eyes looking into his. “… comfortable in here. I kind of get off on having a foot in two separate worlds.” She pulled her cigarette from the ashtray and lifted it to her lips, inhaling. The smoke circled and danced over her head, disappearing in the ether. “And what about you? Leather jacket? Denims? Cowboy boots? It doesn’t look like this is much your scene, either.”

Ryan said, “What can I say? I’m a fan of vampire flicks. These kind of places are like amusement parks for me.”

Elle exhaled a stream of smoke. Flicking an ash into the coffin-shaped ashtray, she held the cigarette between her slim fingers. “Ah. You can tell a lot about someone by their favorite vampire movie.” She looked at him. “You strike me as the Buffy the Vampire Slayer type. Young girls, humor, just the hint of danger to get the blood pumping.”

Ryan shook his head. “Christopher Lee. Horror Of Dracula, actually.” Elle rose a pleased eyebrow. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And let’s see about you. Hmm… something classy, perhaps. I know: that art house movie: The Addiction.”

Elle shook her head. “Near Dark. And The Lost Boys.”

Ryan nodded slightly. “I guess we’re both full of surprises, aren’t we?” He cocked his head to the dance floor. “Want to dance?”

“I think that could be very interesting.” She lowered the cigarette into the ashtray, and Ryan removed his jacket, putting it around the chair. They went to the dance floor. They stared into each other’s eyes and started to move to the music. Her body was incredible! Each curve moved in tandem to the beat. Her hair tossing into the air, backlit from the colored hews overhead. Ryan had lost track of how long they’d danced. He couldn’t even recall the exact moment they’d taken hold of each other, grinding against one another to the tempo. But Elle’s voice was clear, her cheek pressed against his. “Come home with me.” He didn’t speak. All he did was nod. They pushed through the crowd to collect their things from the table, and left the club.

Outside in the night air, Ryan was able to catch her scent. Like roses. The way she dressed, smelled, moved … she was an expert in the hunt. A part of him was so tempted to give in, to feel what she was like. “My car’s right over here.” He followed with a smile. It was a dark-red Porsche. He climbed in as she settled behind the wheel. She gunned the motor to life and screeched from the lot.


Continue to Part 2




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