Chapter 1 – Empusa
EMPUSA
It’s strange to know I’m going to kill a man tonight.
Strange, because it’s a Wednesday. I usually like to save my killings for the weekend, but this motherfucker has it coming.
He’s easily forty, but with the kind of smile that says he doesn’t think age matters…
at least when he’s hitting on the twenty-something-year-olds.
In fact, the way he keeps touching them, when they’re obviously uncomfortable, tells me he thinks he’s entitled to touch them.
And no one is entitled to touch anyone.
He looks at them like prey too stupid to realize he’s a predator. His smile reaches his eyes, but it’s an arrogant smile. And even though his hair is done just right and his clothes reek of money, I can see through all of that to the monster inside.
I take another sip of scotch and pretend not to watch him under my eyelashes. Some people would say it’s ironic, a monster who hunts monsters, but they don’t understand. I might do some bad things, but I have rules. Rules like not taking advantage of innocents.
The blonde he was touching, the one who kept shifting further away from him while casting the asshole nervous looks, finally springs away from him when he grabs her ass.
The whole group of drunk girls is suddenly rushing for the bathroom, and I swear to God the pervert is going to follow them inside, until he freezes at the door.
He looks uncertain for a painfully long moment before he turns around.
And spots me.
His predatory gaze stops dead, and then I see his eyes roam over me.
The lucky thing about me is that I’m able to conceal what I am, at least a little bit.
My hair is still an unusual blend of black, red, orange, and yellow strands.
It’s naturally this way, and it gives the impression of fire when it moves.
But in this day and age, women have fun with their hair, so no one has commented on the strangeness of it.
Technically, beneath my skin, there is a golden glow like lava or gold itself, but I can hide that beneath my pale human skin without much of a thought. At least until I use my powers.
My eyes are also golden, but I’ve mostly learned how to control them so they don’t glow.
I think most humans think they’re a different color until they get close enough to me, and then I think they brush the unusual shade off as colored contacts.
So as his gaze moves over me, he might see a woman who veers from tradition, but he doesn’t see the darkness inside my soul or realize that all of this uniqueness is natural.
Inhuman.
Which is good. It’s harder to lure a spider into your trap when they know they’re facing a bigger, stronger predator.
He struts over to me like the cock of the henhouse. But I’m prepared for whatever he might throw at me. Since I’ve escaped the Underworld, I’ve seen more dark souls than I have seen light. I don’t even know what I’d do if I came across a man who wasn’t thirsting to hurt me.
But given my luck, I’ll never need to figure it out.
He leans into my space, so close that I want to tear his eyes out. “A beer and another of whatever she’s having,” he tells the bartender, then flashes me the same cocky smile he’d given the other ladies.
I’m not very good at pretending to be human.
After spending most of my life in a dark cell with my mother, Hecate, and then being caught in a curse to forever haunt crossroads, it’s only been the last few months that I’ve actually been able to interact with people.
And yet, it isn’t very hard to pass as human, since few people care enough to look below the mask I so carefully wear.
“Thank you,” I say, but don’t like the dark quality of my words. I always try to sound young and innocent, but I’m a terrible actress.
The bartender drops off the drinks, and I finish my scotch and reach for the new one.
“So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” he asks, still crowding my space as he sits on the barstool next to me.
“Hunting,” I tell him, smiling over the edge of my drink as I take another sip.
“Hunting?” He lifts a brow with a smirk. “For what?”
“Men,” I tell him honestly.
I’m truly not a good liar, but I’ve found that rarely hurts my game. No one takes a “tiny” female very seriously here or notices the threat weaved through everything I say. Humans are far too good at taking everything at face value, while strangely enough missing the obvious.
A tiny human female equals no threat to most people. A tiny human female with poorly concealed threats, though? She’s cute. For reasons I don’t understand.
Dumb asses.
“Well, look no further,” he says, placing a hand on my knee.
Hmmm…usually I kill quickly, but I think this man could stand to lose his hand first.
The thought makes me smile. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“To have some fun?” he asks, anticipation in his voice.
I nod. “Well, it’ll be fun for me.”
He laughs and slams back his beer, then stands, offering me his arm.
I don’t take his offer. Instead, I slowly finish my drink.
He starts to look nervous. Then I slide out of my chair, my boots hitting the floor.
He drops his arm, and we walk out together.
But the instant the door closes, I have to right myself.
Sometimes I forget how much the loud music of the bars, the different scents, and the various humans overwhelm my senses.
It feels like a clean slate when I step into the night.
He starts to lead me to his car.
“Wait,” I say.
He looks back with a frown.
“Let’s just go somewhere quiet.”
His expression is confused.
I lift a hand toward the woods behind the bar, and his eyes suddenly light up. Yeah, that’s right, big fella, you don’t even have to take me home. You don’t even have to come up with an excuse to get rid of me when you’re finished.
He starts walking in the direction I pointed and a strange chill rolls down my spine. I slow in my movements, frowning as I stare into the night. Something is wrong. Something has triggered my instincts to start screaming, but I have no idea what the culprit could be.
I’ve sensed this before.
Something supernatural is here.