The wind whispered through my hair as I moved through the empty parking lot. It's cool tendrils caressed my skin, and even though I barely felt the bite of the cold winter air, the gentle caress soothed the fire within me. It kept my rage back and from spilling out all over the nearby innocents. I was enraged and filled with a black wrath that could make the devil himself take pause. The desire for revenge was like a hungry beast clawing at my insides. So consumed I didn't even heed the silent shadows following me, lurking in every dark corner untouched by the ugly light of the street lamps. I walked with long graceful strides intent on my destination. No need to run... even walking I moved faster than a tri-athlete in full sprint. No, my target would still be there when I arrived. He had nowhere to run, besides, the fucking bastard didn't even know Hell was coming to claim him.
I entered the sleazy motel that festered in the slums of downtown Chicago. It looked like no more than a hole in a wall with a flashing neon 'open' sign sputtering on the black painted door. I entered and found the lights inside flickering in the same irregular pattern as the sign outside. Must have been a short circuit in the electrical system. The irregular dance of lights cast eerie shadows on the peeling paint of the walls that looked like it had once been a hideous bright red, and now was a hideous dull red. The reddish-brown carpet was worn thin and reminded me of a massive bloody crime scene. Lounging about the foyer were scantily clad girls dressed in an assortment of outfits meant to suggest cheap sex, from leather and latex to school girl uniforms that no self-respecting school girl would ever wear. I paused in the doorway scanning the room with a cool eye not caring a wit for the flesh that decorated it like cheap fixtures. After my moment of pause verifying he wasn't one of the men among the prostitutes I glided over to the reception area that was wisely enclosed behind iron bars and Plexiglas. No one noticed the unusual movement of the shadows that followed me in dark pursuit. All eyes were riveted on my back with varying degrees of interest.
"How much for a room?" I asked the greasy slime-ball behind the desk, making my voice like silk sliding over flesh.
He licked his lips and a very base, male look slithered into his eyes. He eyed me up and down actually arrogant enough to believe I would let him touch me. Had I not been so single-minded in my personal agenda I might have reached through his flimsy human barriers and ripped his eyeballs from his head. Instead, I stared at him with cold dead eyes and waited patiently for him to answer. Finally he placed a torn and stained ledger in front of me.
"Fifty an hour", he said his voice as oily as his appearance.
I reached in my pocket and slid a hundred across the counter.
"I won't be long," I said with a small feral smile flashing sharp teeth.
The greedy bastard only smirked, not aware of the danger, as he snatched up the bill checking it for authenticity. I signed a name into the ledger as he sought out a room key.
"So... you here to have a bit of fun, eh?" he asked as he pushed the key towards me through the small opening on the desk.
"Oh, yes," I responded with a delighted hiss as the grin reached my eyes. Something in the look made the slug uneasy as he quickly glanced away to busy himself with imaginary work.
"Sure, sure," he mumbled avoiding eye contact. Possibly on some unconscious level he saw the predator lurking in me. Lately humans have been sensing it more and more with me. Had I still been human I suppose it would have bothered me, instead my smile just widened as I turned and headed up the stairs. All eyes in the room followed me in silence still unaware of the slither of shadows.
The room on the key said "B215", but I was very much interested in another room down the hall. Even though I already knew where he was I let his scent draw me to him. I sniffed the air subtly like a panther on the hunt. His smell was nice. A sharp contrast to the monster he was. Then again, I liked the smell of killers... of predators. He smelled of fresh cotton, cinnamon, and burnt wood. The scent was warm and inviting. I wanted to crawl into it and devour him.
I was in front of the door now. My slender fingers traced the wood grain as I leaned in close, inhaling deeply. Along with him there was the scent of another. She smelled of rotten oranges and vanilla, but the overwhelming scent of musk nearly threw me into a frenzy. My ears pricked as the sound of their moans and screams pounded against my eardrums sending my own hungers spiraling out of control.
I bit my lip drawing a small amount of blood trying to tame the beast long enough to follow through with my plans.
"Not yet," I whispered to myself pressing my forehead to the door, as my tongue darted out to capture the crimson ribbon that trailed across my lower lip.
I listened to the sound of flesh sliding and slapping against each other, as I turned the knob. I willed the door to open and a soft almost inaudible click of the lock unlatching went wholly unheard by the animals rutting on the bed. I slipped through the door into the darkened room using the shadows as my cover blending into the corner unseen.
My eyes gleamed with anticipation as I watched him, eager for him to be done with her so I could enjoy delivering him to the last moments of his life.
He moved on top of her, her legs hooked over his shoulders as he shoved his cock into her like a piston. Their bodies glistened with sweat and he was rough, too rough. I smelled her blood, but she didn't seem to mind he was tearing her insides as she writhered and moaned with pleasure racking her nails along his arms. Either she was a damn good actress or she was as fucked up as him. I wasn't sure which.
More blood perfumed the air with its sweet scent making my head swim and my mouth water, but I held on to my control. It did not last much longer, thankfully, as his athletic body jerked and spammed expending himself into the whore. He then fell over to the side and pushed the girl out of the bed. She hit the hardwood floor on her backside, the side of her head catching the edge of the bed table. She let out a litany of curses, some I didn't even know, as she stumbled to her feet holding her injured head.
"Money's on the table, get the f*ck out, " he said as he used the sheets to wipe himself off.
