attention as a single white woman, lost and possibly drunk, who had wandered over from the tourist sections of town.
These men would see exactly what she wanted them to see.
Pushing blond hair off her shoulders, Ruth glanced around again.
Almost midnight. Most citizens had settled in for the evening. Anyone who remained out at this hour had a higher chance of being what she, or rather the knife, needed.
To help create her alter ego, she had dressed in stiletto heels. The black slacks and a black wrap top were suited more for a dinner party than a walk through the rough section of town. By adding the flaxen wig, she completed her transition into the right frame of mind for the kill. Now she felt more alluring, more in touch with the other aspect of her personality. The deadly seductress created such dissonance with her normal character.
“Normal character.” What a joke. Even daily life had become an act. Holy hell, what a nightmare she had become.
“Hey, mama, whatcha doin’ out here tonight?”
With some encouragement from his friends, a black man approached. As expected, when she glanced back, additional men closed in behind her. Now she needed to see whether this guy would suffice as a criminal about to die or if another of his friends better fit the bill.
Too bad the man wasn’t alone. She hated witnesses, but she wasn’t in a position to pick and choose. She had to make this kill work tonight.
“Ah, can you fellas tell me how to get back to the French Quarter? I’m a little lost.”
She stumbled and giggled, ignoring the knowing smirks as the men formed a loose circle around her. The knife’s relentless hunger began to heat her leg, and her heart pounded.
When she pivoted back to the first man who had approached her, the knife nearly keened, its desire for a corrupt soul was so intense. This sneering man reeked of evil. Good. The more corrupt, the better, as far as her chances of getting the Meaningful Kill went.
He stared at her chest, oblivious to the danger she presented. Perfect.
“Maybe you want to give me ... directions. Over there.” She pointed with her chin toward a parked car on a side street.
“You know I do.”
He followed her fifty paces away, next to a car without front wheels. He was a big guy, dark as night, with a gold tooth that glinted in the streetlight when he grinned, and all pumped-up muscle and swagger.
She staggered once again for good measure, and the idiot did nothing to help. Not that she expected chivalry, but his lack of couth only added fuel to the knife’s hunger.
“Let me tell you a secret.” She hiccupped.
“What you wanna tell me, baby?”
The knife wanted him. Now. “Lean closer, sugar,” she said.
He licked his lips, grinned, and preened like an overstuffed peacock. As a lover would, she took his face in her hands, almost caressing the arches of his cheekbones. The hoots from his friends faded as she entered this guy’s mind.
“What the—”
He pulled back, but she pressed her hands tighter to lock him in place. “Shush. Just enjoy it.”
She effectively shut down his speech center with a thought as she parted the curtains of his mind. Since he hadn’t admitted to a crime, she would have to find it.
His friends walked toward them, restless and punching each other on the arms as they watched their mute buddy. To them, he appeared riveted on Ruth and about to get some action.
Which was exactly what she wanted them to see.
Her scalp beneath the blond wig itched.
Concentrate
.
Into the deepest recess of his conscious mind she went, filtering past images of a woman whose gray-laced, curly hair surrounded a careworn face. Ruth pushed past glimpses of babies, all smiles and outstretched arms, each perched on a different woman’s lap. This guy was a real winner.
She found the crime. There, buried deep down and abutting his subconscious. Although he had done a remarkable job suppressing the memory, if a person had a past, Ruth could eventually
These men would see exactly what she wanted them to see.
Pushing blond hair off her shoulders, Ruth glanced around again.
Almost midnight. Most citizens had settled in for the evening. Anyone who remained out at this hour had a higher chance of being what she, or rather the knife, needed.
To help create her alter ego, she had dressed in stiletto heels. The black slacks and a black wrap top were suited more for a dinner party than a walk through the rough section of town. By adding the flaxen wig, she completed her transition into the right frame of mind for the kill. Now she felt more alluring, more in touch with the other aspect of her personality. The deadly seductress created such dissonance with her normal character.
“Normal character.” What a joke. Even daily life had become an act. Holy hell, what a nightmare she had become.
“Hey, mama, whatcha doin’ out here tonight?”
With some encouragement from his friends, a black man approached. As expected, when she glanced back, additional men closed in behind her. Now she needed to see whether this guy would suffice as a criminal about to die or if another of his friends better fit the bill.
Too bad the man wasn’t alone. She hated witnesses, but she wasn’t in a position to pick and choose. She had to make this kill work tonight.
“Ah, can you fellas tell me how to get back to the French Quarter? I’m a little lost.”
She stumbled and giggled, ignoring the knowing smirks as the men formed a loose circle around her. The knife’s relentless hunger began to heat her leg, and her heart pounded.
When she pivoted back to the first man who had approached her, the knife nearly keened, its desire for a corrupt soul was so intense. This sneering man reeked of evil. Good. The more corrupt, the better, as far as her chances of getting the Meaningful Kill went.
He stared at her chest, oblivious to the danger she presented. Perfect.
“Maybe you want to give me ... directions. Over there.” She pointed with her chin toward a parked car on a side street.
“You know I do.”
He followed her fifty paces away, next to a car without front wheels. He was a big guy, dark as night, with a gold tooth that glinted in the streetlight when he grinned, and all pumped-up muscle and swagger.
She staggered once again for good measure, and the idiot did nothing to help. Not that she expected chivalry, but his lack of couth only added fuel to the knife’s hunger.
“Let me tell you a secret.” She hiccupped.
“What you wanna tell me, baby?”
The knife wanted him. Now. “Lean closer, sugar,” she said.
He licked his lips, grinned, and preened like an overstuffed peacock. As a lover would, she took his face in her hands, almost caressing the arches of his cheekbones. The hoots from his friends faded as she entered this guy’s mind.
“What the—”
He pulled back, but she pressed her hands tighter to lock him in place. “Shush. Just enjoy it.”
She effectively shut down his speech center with a thought as she parted the curtains of his mind. Since he hadn’t admitted to a crime, she would have to find it.
His friends walked toward them, restless and punching each other on the arms as they watched their mute buddy. To them, he appeared riveted on Ruth and about to get some action.
Which was exactly what she wanted them to see.
Her scalp beneath the blond wig itched.
Concentrate
.
Into the deepest recess of his conscious mind she went, filtering past images of a woman whose gray-laced, curly hair surrounded a careworn face. Ruth pushed past glimpses of babies, all smiles and outstretched arms, each perched on a different woman’s lap. This guy was a real winner.
She found the crime. There, buried deep down and abutting his subconscious. Although he had done a remarkable job suppressing the memory, if a person had a past, Ruth could eventually
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