Chapter 1 The Thrill of the Hunt
Chapter 1: The Thrill of the Hunt
Lena Sinuon - The Midnight Widow
T he city was alive with the stench of death, wrapped in the false masquerade of Halloween—they just didn’t know it yet. Fog rolled thick across the cracked pavement of the streets, clinging to everything, suffocating the air with a sweet, sickly perfume of caramel and decay. The streets glowed with flickering orange lights, as if the very life was being drained from them, much like politicians siphoning away our tax dollars right before our eyes. The space was teeming with people, each draped in costumes, their faces hidden behind masks of grotesque horror or twisted humor, all vying to outdo one another in a macabre display of creativity.
But there was nothing innocent about tonight. The screams, the laughter—it was all part of the act. Everyone wanted to take advantage of this particular night to pretend to be something they were not, except for me.
I moved through the crowd like a shadow—unseen, unnoticed. But my eyes, they never missed a detail. The thrill of the hunt was sharp in my veins tonight, more potent than any drug but just as addictive. This was the night I came alive—the night I was free . Halloween wasn’t just a celebration, it was my sanctuary, the one night of the year I could walk among the living and take what I wanted and bathe in their blood right before their very eyes.
My latest target was close. I could feel his pulse even now, thudding in my ears. His heartbeat was a warning, a promise. Was he as excited as I was? Oh, little fly, come closer to my web. The sights I have in store for you…
I laughed as I slipped through the masses, the bright colors of costumes a blur around me. We all weave spells of false realities in our minds, some of us with the power to make it come alive.
“Oh, excuse…me,” came the first masculine voice to get in my way. It never failed to disgust me, the way they fumbled for excuses the moment something caught their attention. But I had no time to waste on trivialities like lust-driven teenagers.
Shoving him aside and continuing forth, my heels clicked ominously down the paved street. I spotted him. A man—tall, balding, his skull mask hanging crooked over his face as he stumbled through the crowd. He wasn’t drunk, but his panic made him unsteady, like a rat in a maze. My grin widened as I followed him, letting him think he had a chance of escape. The fear radiating off him was thick enough to taste, but it wasn’t my only preference.
He had no idea what kind of monster was stalking him. But he would.
I was dressed for the occasion, of course—crimson red, black lace, deadly elegance. My dress clung to my body, the fabric hugging my curves just tight enough to make them an invitation. The black corset was the final touch, luring the unsuspecting to unwrap the deadly gift of a black widow, only to have them collapse at my feet. The mask I wore—black, jagged, almost like a shattered reflection—hid my identity, though no one in this crowd would ever know the true me. They couldn’t. The Midnight Widow didn’t have a face. She had only a name, a reputation.
I could already feel the bloodlust rising within me. The cold anticipation that slithered in my chest like a serpent. The hunger stirred frequently, but I relished my Halloween prey more than any other.
A thrill ran through me at the thought of the kill. That glorious moment when life slipped away in an instant—when the body went limp, still warm under my touch, and the soul was taken. There was no feeling in the world that could compare. And tonight, I could not care less about any pseudo demonic festivities, my only focus was him .
I watched with amusement as he tripped on a little girl’s dress, stumbling like the buffoon he was. He never should have played with fire, never should have forced my hand when his fetish landed on my doorstep. Politicians spun their webs, fooling themselves with the power they believed they held, unaware that the threads were slowly unraveling, until the world around them collapsed like a trapped insect caught in my tightening grip.
See, Mr. Hawkins had a taste for Asian women, especially the ones who came from broken homes and looked to be in their teens. He banked on their disparaging pasts to fuel his blackmail, using their secrets as leverage to offer hush money.
But he chose the wrong girl when he came looking for my little sister. It was her suicide that clued me in—a common outcome for those with a similar past. But me? I simply chose to channel my frustrations with injustice in a different way.
She should have come to me. We could have figured it out together. She wasn’t the only one who had to deal with such matters. But I had to remain strong for her, strong for the family, and save face.
I curled my lip in a snarl as the familiar hatred for everything he represented surged within me, burning like the flames of hell.
“Hey!” someone exclaimed as I ran into them, keeping my sights trained on the prize.
I shoved the woman in a demon costume out of my way the moment Mr. Hawkins began to run. With practiced ease, I slipped through the crowd, closing the distance between us. Some of the bystanders laughed, mistaking it for part of the show—just another thrill for the fright fest on the streets.
The city was alive with a cacophony of laughter, music, and shuffling feet, but all of it felt distant, muffled, as I focused solely on Mr. Hawkins. He moved through the crowd with that same, unsettling nervous energy that drew me in like a moth to flame. His face twisted in fleeting glances, checking over his shoulder, but it was never enough to notice me—watching, waiting, closing in.
His fear was palpable. It was thick, pulsing through the streets as clearly as if he were screaming for help. He thought his anonymity would shield him here. But I knew exactly why he was prowling tonight. I’d caught wind of it through a family friend, someone concerned about their youngest daughter falling in with the wrong crowd.
I smiled as he pulled away from the crowd, making himself easier to catch.
The people parted as I approached, each step bringing me closer to my prey. I let the chaos of the night blur around me as I slid through the familiar streets with practiced ease, moving like smoke against the darkness of the night.
I saw him hesitate when I slipped into the shadows, a slight falter in his pace. The alley loomed ahead, dark and suffocating, a black hole in the city’s noise.
Without a second thought, I moved, quick and silent, until I was right behind him. He had no chance to react as my arm shot out, wrapping my arm around his neck with a strength that startled him. His body jerked, stumbling back into the alley as I yanked him off balance, pulling him further into the gloom.
“Wh—what the hell?!” His voice cracked with panic, but the words were barely audible over his choking.
I pressed his side against the cold brick of the alley wall, the scent of sweat and cheap cologne mixing with the stale air. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, and I could feel the tremor in his body.
“Shh,” I murmured, my lips curling into a wicked smile. “You wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.”
His eyes were wide, darting around the alley as though he could find some way to escape, his hands slapping ineffectively against my arms, but I had him locked in. They were all the same. Why bother wasting energy when they always ended where I wanted them to be…
I whispered softly in his ear as his strength began to falter. Pulling a syringe from my pocket, I slipped the needle into his skin like a lover’s caress and pressed the plunger down with a practiced hand.
It didn’t take long for his limbs to grow heavy, his body going slack in my grip. I let him drop, his form hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Rolling my shoulders, I clicked my tongue in mock disappointment. Pulling up my mask, I stared at his form for another second before preparing to drag him away.
I wasn’t finished. Not yet. Not with him. There was more to do and the night was still young.
As I bent down to grab his ankles, something shifted.
A ripple in the air. A disturbance. It wasn’t the usual sound of another drunken idiot stumbling into the alley. This was something different, something wrong .
I froze, my eyes darting to the figure that had emerged from the fog.
At first, I thought it was just some sick Halloween costume, but as he stepped into the dim orange light, I began to doubt if this was a man in a costume. Because this had to be something else entirely. Something older. A creature not bound by the same rules the rest of us followed.
He was tall, impossibly so, his silhouette towering a head taller over the size of an average six feet tall man. The top of his skull was shaped like a wicked flower blooming with teeth along the edges. Pointy shoulders strutted forward as if he was a bad fashion statement, until I realized the shape was part of his muscle tissue and stretched skin. What I thought was a cloak was the extension of what looked like large leaves or petals as crimson as fresh blood. His eyes? He didn’t have any. Nothing but a morbidly vile smirk that looked forcefully pulled back.
Despite his lack of eyes or sockets, they burned into me. His aura was black as tar, twisted and sharp. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. He was the occasion.
I should’ve ignored him. Kept my focus on my prey. But the man... the thing —his presence filled the street like a shadow consuming light. Though we were removed from the crowd, I could feel every living thing within a certain radius shrink back from our location, as if they instinctively knew he was far from anything of this realm.
My heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t part of the game.
And then, beyond mortal understanding, our eyes metaphorically met.
I didn’t flinch, though I should’ve. I should’ve walked away, ran even. But I couldn’t. Something about him—something in the way he perused me at his leisure, the scent of infernal flames coming off him in waves— stopped me. I was suddenly aware of how small I felt, how insignificant this pathetic little masquerade of mine was in comparison to him.
“Little human hunter,” he said, his voice like a rumbling growl, “How your thirst for blood intrigues me to my very marrow. Why do you hide in the shadows when you could be showing the other despicable humans your dominion over this plane? Does the darkness of this corner not belong to you? Do you not command it beneath your fingertips?”
His words slithered over me like maggots, yet brushed against my skin with the softness of bat wings. It was as if he knew me—saw straight through me, unraveling everything I was and beckoning me to draw nearer.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, glancing down at Mr. Hawkin’s lifeless form while entranced by the way this creature glided through the air, as if he were a shadow drifting effortlessly through the fabric of reality itself.
“I don’t know who you think you are,” I said, my voice steady, though the way his presence coiled around me made my skin shiver, “but I don’t have time for games. You need to move and get out of my way.” I enunciated every word with deliberate calm, though my heart raced beneath my chest. “If I’m really the hunter you claim I am, shouldn’t you be the one to watch your back?”
His smile pulled back further as if there were demonic hands stretching the corners of his mouth. It was dark and defiant, as if he was amused by everything I was saying.
“Brave little mortal,” he purred, stepping closer, and the very air around him seemed to shift. This time, it was my turn to peruse his monstrous form. “Even hunters have their time. You, too, will learn that there are things that hunt you, and they do not need masks.”
I wanted to laugh, but the coldness in his tone kept me silent. I could hear my heartbeat now, pounding in my ears, more erratic than before. I could feel him, this... demon-esque thing , drawing closer to my soul, calling for it. I should’ve run. But I stood there, staring into his eyeless gaze, mesmerized by the heat emanating from his deformed skin.
“What are you?” I finally demanded, my voice strained. My usual confidence was slipping, and it angered me. Angered me in a way I couldn’t explain. Even if he wasn’t part of this world, it didn’t matter. I had things to do, tasks to accomplish before the night was over.
He leaned in, twisting his head inhumanly as if his proximity could peel away my flesh for his pleasure. The sight was disturbingly unnatural, yet his voice, smooth and seductive, sent an unsettling shiver down my spine.
“Curious, are you, little mortal?” he purred, his words dripping with a dark amusement. “As curious as I am about you...?”