• It smells intoxicating; I can’t help but discern its distinct flavor from the rest of the humans, making their way through life with their own false hope. I turn, searching for the one lost within himself. When my eyes finally meet another, its obvious that he’s the one I’m searching for. You could see it in the man’s eyes, tunnels so deep I swear I can see through to his soul. He is dissatisfied with his life and completely yearning for something to happen to him. Anything. When you’ve been a predator for as long as I have, you can tell these things.
    He looks down, pretending I’m not there. I don’t care. The only thought on my mind is how to take him quietly. The crowd has all but dissolved into the city, but I still don’t want to waste my time on the occasional homeless man who glances at just the wrong time. I start to become impatient with myself.
    I can practically already taste his blood in my throat. I could picture it already: feasting on his fear, draining the life out of him. Leaving him an empty shell. I needed it. Now.
    He turns away to leave. My choices are either attack now or starve. I don’t get to eat as often these days, and I haven’t had such a glorious feast in years. The answer is clear.
    As he starts to walk I rest my hand on his shoulder. He stops short, and turn slowly. When he sees me he goes still, paralyzed with fear. The primal instinct deep inside of him knows something is wrong, that this woman was, in fact, a danger to him. He wants to run. He struggles to break free of my grasp. Silly human, I think. Nobody has escaped a demon since the time of Abraham.