The Stranger

The autumn leaves blew over the pavement in such a way as to make the figure who was moving there seem fixed to a sliding walk, letting the motion of the wind and leaves carry him forward. His hair was pale, loose, long to his shoulders and glistened in the moonlight. His coat was dark and long and billowed in the cold wind.  His movement slowed, he was turning around. His face was beautiful, his eyes sharp, and in them was a wild look. It was a look, almost, of desperation, of hunger; the look was so intense, so focused solely on her that she stumbled backwards. Her fall caused her to look away from the figure for a fraction of a second.  And then, when she looked back, he was gone. How he did it, so quickly, so silently, she would never know. Cautiously, she looked around her. The lawn was empty, the trees empty, the street empty, and while at first she did not even know why she had missed him or was even looking for him, by the time she realised he was right behind her, there were vague stirrings of unease in her.  His hand flew out and pushed her back onto the pavement. She was afraid to get up, afraid that she might not be able to gain her feet at all, with the trembling of her fright. He moved quickly, with inhumane speed. He stood over her shaking body, looking down on her. He dropped into a crouch, still watching the trembling girl. The gravel from the pavement was pressing into her legs through her thin trousers. Yet she dared not move. The smell of earth and decaying leaves surrounded her as she lay beneath the man, frozen with fright. She was stunned - the stranger she saw above her was intimidating yet beautiful. He wasn't particularly attractive, in her opinion, but his skin was flawless, his eyes clear and lips a smooth pale pink.  She knew, almost as an instinct, that she must keep very still. She didn't understand what he was going to do to her, but she would by the time he was finished. Ironically, she hadn't wanted to go out on a night like this, but there were pressing matters to attend that would overrule her discontent. HIs gaze became alluring.  He hadn't meant to scare her. He was hungry. Honestly, he didn't care if she was afraid, it would add to the taste. Going days without food was not something he was used to. Never again would he do it, he thought, as he looked down at the pathetic human in front of him, it was not worth the pain. He wanted to tell her how much he would enjoy drinking from her, but he knew it was a waste of time. He wondered what she would like to do when she died. If she believed in heaven or hell, if she wanted to be buried or cremated, what kind of coffin she wanted. None of it mattered of course, she hadn't thought she would die so soon, she hadn't planned a funeral.  He almost felt a pang of guilt. Almost, but not quite. Feelings were not something he witnessed often. She smelled absolutely delicious. He could smell the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. This made him even more angry and his hunting instincts began to kick in.  Did he just growl? It had sounded like a wild animal, yet she knew he had made the noise. Her eyes flickered away from the lock his had held her in. Suddenly, the panic flooded back to her all at once. Gasping, flailing her arms and legs, she tried to move away from him.  The man sighed. He put a hand on her stomach to stop her from moving. She was becoming annoying. His fangs extended.  She looked at his teeth. They had become sharp point, like daggers in his mouth. What was he? Annoyed, he sighed again and leaned closer to her. The smell of her blood was overwhelming. He had never smelled anyone with blood as sweet as hers before. Many stories he had heard throughout his life, but none of them had explained quite how good the blood of a fairy smelled. It was indescribable. Fairies - fae - had the sweetest blood in the universe and was irresistible to vampires. The effect of the blood was kind of like alcohol to a human.  Now that he realised what she was, how good her blood smelled as she lay there, afraid, it was too much to resist. He took one last deep breath and closed the gap between them. He sank his fangs into the soft flesh of her neck. Immediately, her blood filled his mouth. It tasted even sweeter than it smelled. Wave after wave of blood flooded his senses. He couldn't stop. She really was irresistible. He could taste the last small parts of her pathetic life seeping out of her blood.  She knew she was going to die. She could feel it. She felt all of her energy slowly leaving her body. Her thoughts hollowed into a numbness.  She was dead. He stopped drinking and stood up. Looking down at the body, he sighed again. He had drained a fairy. He stood thinking for a while, wondering what to do with the body. After a while he made up his mind.  He kicked the body so that it rolled onto its front on the gravel pavement and walked away.