with Mason. There was no question in her mind that she would succeed at bedding the Innocent; she just had to play her cards right and be patient.
When morning finally arrived Sylvia could stand it no longer. She downed a hot cup of coffee and threw on an old sweatshirt and her favorite pair of jeans before hastily putting her hair up in a ponytail and brushing some powder on her skin to make it matte. She hurried out the door and down the street towards Chinatown to her favorite nail salon.
Inside the salon her usual nail technician greeted her and got right to work while Sylvia watched the TV overhead as the local news team rehashed the newest murders. Her heart sank when they identified one of the victims as Tiana Meyers, a fellow succubus she had rather liked. The other victim was unknown to her but even just seeing her picture flash across the screen confirmed for her that she had been one of her brethren as well. The reporters did not reveal the specifics of the murders but called them ‘gruesome’ and ‘unusual’. Sylvia snorted to herself. ‘Gruesome’ and ‘unusual’? Well, that was one to describe being murdered, then having every available opening in your body stuffed with rose petals seeped in holy water, and having an apple crammed into your dead mouth, like some kind of twisted pig roast. The newscasters went on to report that the Boston Police Commissioner was calling these murders the work of a serial killer.
“Such a shame.” The nail tech shook her head as she overheard the news. “Those poor girls. So what color do you want today?”
Sylvia studied the vast array of colors before her and selecting a muted baby pink. She usually went for the flashier, racy colors but today, for her date with Mason, she wanted something feminine and understated. Innocents were not ensnared with the flashy sexuality the succubi so easily displayed. Understated femininity would be her best tool to turn Mason’s head.
Once her nails were done , Sylvia went home to shower and prepare for her date but a note sticking out of the corner of her mailbox caught her eye as she went through the lobby of her building. Puzzled, she gingerly pulled the note free and unfolded it.
I know what you are. Your turn is coming . Sylvia crumpled up the note and tossed it on the floor with a small cry of disgust. Her heart hammered as she forced herself to pick the note up again. Once it was smoothed out, she studied it, trying to find any clue as to its sender. The words were printed in strong block letters in a handwriting she didn’t recognize. The paper itself had no markings, no hint to its origins. It was simply two ominous sentences on a blank sheet of paper.
Panic clogged Sylvia’s throat as she recalled the sensation of being watched the day before on the subway. Despite her precautions of taking a cab home after shopping instead of the subway, the Hunter had still managed to discover where she lived. Note in hand she bounded up the steps floor by floor in lieu of taking the elevator. She wanted nothing more than to be in her apartment, safe, with the locked door between herself and the rest of the city. Out of breath and sweating from both physical exertion and fear, Sylvia slammed her door shut and did up all of the locks. It did little to diminish her terror.
Deborah picked up the phone at the office. “Enchanted Escorts, how may I-”
“It’s Sylvia. Just put me through to Lilith, I’ve got an emergency here!”
“I believe she’s on the other line, but I’d be happy to take a mes-”
“I don’t give a damn if she’s got t he President in there with her! Just patch me through and tell her it’s important!” she roared at the startled receptionist.
A moment later the line rang again a few times before Lilith herself picked up. “This better be important, Sylvia, I was on the line with a Fraternity interested in hiring half a dozen girls for a party.”
“The Hunter. He was watching me yesterday and
When morning finally arrived Sylvia could stand it no longer. She downed a hot cup of coffee and threw on an old sweatshirt and her favorite pair of jeans before hastily putting her hair up in a ponytail and brushing some powder on her skin to make it matte. She hurried out the door and down the street towards Chinatown to her favorite nail salon.
Inside the salon her usual nail technician greeted her and got right to work while Sylvia watched the TV overhead as the local news team rehashed the newest murders. Her heart sank when they identified one of the victims as Tiana Meyers, a fellow succubus she had rather liked. The other victim was unknown to her but even just seeing her picture flash across the screen confirmed for her that she had been one of her brethren as well. The reporters did not reveal the specifics of the murders but called them ‘gruesome’ and ‘unusual’. Sylvia snorted to herself. ‘Gruesome’ and ‘unusual’? Well, that was one to describe being murdered, then having every available opening in your body stuffed with rose petals seeped in holy water, and having an apple crammed into your dead mouth, like some kind of twisted pig roast. The newscasters went on to report that the Boston Police Commissioner was calling these murders the work of a serial killer.
“Such a shame.” The nail tech shook her head as she overheard the news. “Those poor girls. So what color do you want today?”
Sylvia studied the vast array of colors before her and selecting a muted baby pink. She usually went for the flashier, racy colors but today, for her date with Mason, she wanted something feminine and understated. Innocents were not ensnared with the flashy sexuality the succubi so easily displayed. Understated femininity would be her best tool to turn Mason’s head.
Once her nails were done , Sylvia went home to shower and prepare for her date but a note sticking out of the corner of her mailbox caught her eye as she went through the lobby of her building. Puzzled, she gingerly pulled the note free and unfolded it.
I know what you are. Your turn is coming . Sylvia crumpled up the note and tossed it on the floor with a small cry of disgust. Her heart hammered as she forced herself to pick the note up again. Once it was smoothed out, she studied it, trying to find any clue as to its sender. The words were printed in strong block letters in a handwriting she didn’t recognize. The paper itself had no markings, no hint to its origins. It was simply two ominous sentences on a blank sheet of paper.
Panic clogged Sylvia’s throat as she recalled the sensation of being watched the day before on the subway. Despite her precautions of taking a cab home after shopping instead of the subway, the Hunter had still managed to discover where she lived. Note in hand she bounded up the steps floor by floor in lieu of taking the elevator. She wanted nothing more than to be in her apartment, safe, with the locked door between herself and the rest of the city. Out of breath and sweating from both physical exertion and fear, Sylvia slammed her door shut and did up all of the locks. It did little to diminish her terror.
Deborah picked up the phone at the office. “Enchanted Escorts, how may I-”
“It’s Sylvia. Just put me through to Lilith, I’ve got an emergency here!”
“I believe she’s on the other line, but I’d be happy to take a mes-”
“I don’t give a damn if she’s got t he President in there with her! Just patch me through and tell her it’s important!” she roared at the startled receptionist.
A moment later the line rang again a few times before Lilith herself picked up. “This better be important, Sylvia, I was on the line with a Fraternity interested in hiring half a dozen girls for a party.”
“The Hunter. He was watching me yesterday and
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