Chapter 63 Black Death
Black Death
Under a multitude of colored lights, but sufficiently shadowed by the dark, dressed in all black, Black Death sauntered through the crowd.
She kept her head tilted down, her hood curtaining her face, not that anyone would recognize her.
The hazel-colored contact lenses, long, brown wig, makeup so thick her complexion was buried.
She was unrecognizable. Her smell was the only thing which might alert him of her presence, but she was smart enough to stay downwind.
The breeze blew in from the north, as long as she positioned herself on the south side and hung back, he’d never know she was there.
The scent of fear tinged the air. The delicious scent intoxicated her senses.
The sounds of their high-pitched screams split the cool night and electrified her body.
She looked to the north and watched as a girl with long, strawberry hair was tossed from side to side on one of the rides, screaming.
Her friend had her head tilted up to the sky, laughing.
Her pallid throat was slender and unblemished.
She fantasized briefly about leaping into the air, landing in the cart and ripping her neck apart.
Those days were long gone. Too many happy snapping mobile phones kept the urge at bay.
Patience.
She stalked behind, watching as he walked arm in arm with the girl.
He liked her, at least as much as she was probably a good feed for him.
Her smell was sweet, succulent, a mixture of honey, with a touch of spice, like fresh cinnamon.
It would draw any vampire to her scent. She wondered how he resisted taking a little too much.
But then, he did always have a willpower stronger than most. He was stronger in every sense. Bastard.
She never felt inferior, far from it, but she was no match for him physically, not directly, at least. Like a game of chess, this contest would be won in the strategy of every move she made prior to the queen cornering the king.
She paused to listen. She blocked out all other sounds.
She heard them speak but what they said fell to a level below even her hearing.
The girl’s breath drew her attention. It fell rapidly from her lips, misted into the air and vanished. It was if the white haze was a visual prompt, as lurid as the fog rising from a shaman’s ritualistic cauldron. It was a reminder of the girl’s immortality, begging to be diminished.
Yes.
A chance to screw some angst into him, if for nothing but fun, should not be forsaken. He would be ropeable if someone under his watch was killed, the erosion of his God-like status would last momentarily. But to see the rage on his face, would be worth it.
The power of the notion enhanced her resolve. Power by acquisition, power earned, was almost better than power gifted by what she was. She could almost taste the girl now. The divine palatable taste of retribution. Saliva dripped into her mouth. She swallowed.
Black Death ducked her head down and strode forward, turning into an alleyway between two tents. Slinking under the cover of the shadows.
With a tantalizing anticipation, she waited.