Daimon, DANIELLE BOLGER [read my book .txt] 📗

Lights—blue, green, red, pink, amber and violet—slashed across the dance floor like knives to a chopping board. They sliced narrowly and swiftly in all different directions, as if competing for the greatest brilliance, or perhaps for the greatest disharmony. Amongst these blades were other contenders for the glory, as glowing tiles under the dancers' feet created their own frenzied and colorful patterns beneath a sea of fog. Intermittently, a strobe light would come into play, blinding patrons in a scene too white then too black, and through these flashes, the floor's inhabitants were given the eerie, rigid appearance of animated corpses.

The music pounded hard. The floor quivered with every low beat. The tremble carried into the dancers’ shoes, reverberated into their muscles and recalibrated their pulses to follow this communal rhythm. Angelic tones soothed heavy clashes, and upon the face of every patron was nothing but careless rapture.

My own body responded to these lights and sounds in just the same way; the bass guided the swaying of my hips as my lips mimed the words of the female vocalist. My fingers trailed down my body slowly, as shimmying shoulders edged them down. I felt the weight of a dozen or more male eyes on me, and the heat from their bodies, as they edged closer. Though no one was in contact with me, I sensed the quick fluctuations of the nearby dancer's pulses. The increased paces, created by heightened releases of adrenaline, as well as the scent of wet and slimy bodily secretions, suggested arousal. The smell of it was strong tonight, so great that I could taste the basic human desire. I was almost drawn in by their simple want, but my hunger could not be so easily satiated.

One man came so close that his excited heartbeat pressed up against my back. A martini glass filled with scarlet liquid was rounded in front of me as a voice rasped into my ear, “A cosmopolitan for the most beautiful lady in the club tonight.”

I took the glass and swiveled in his embrace. “You’re too kind,” I whispered, my lips touching his neck at moments.

His hand wandered down my body until it found my ass and squeezed eagerly. “Oh baby, you better drink that quick, you’re turning me on too much to be in public.”

My right hand slipped down his shoulder, along his arm, and moved to the inside of his thigh. I glanced at his package. “You’re not the only one excited.”

I curled my tongue around the cocktail's straw and sucked in deeply. When I took a final swallow, I held the glass to my side.

He grabbed it hastily and smiled. “You finished in one, that’s so sexy.”

He made to kiss, but I turned my head away coyly and he settled for caressing his lips against my neck. “Hm…” He murmured, gratified. “You smell so good.”

“So do you, just like honey,” I teased. “I bet you taste just as good, feel just as good.”

His grin widened so immense, it was like telling a child he could draw on the walls with a crayon. “Well,” he began, “how about we get out of here so I can show you my sweet side?”

“I’d like that,” I responded as my hand curved over his upper thigh, tempting towards his precious zone. “Have anywhere in mind?”

“Well, there is my place. I have a pretty swank apartment.”

“Apartment? No, that doesn't work. I can get very...noisy, you see.” The front of his pants swelled even larger. “I know somewhere exciting.”

He gaped in confusion but allowed me to guide him from the club without interruption. Ten minutes later, we hit the end of the street and reached the beach. I took my heels off with one hand while the other lay in his, making small circles with my index finger.

“Oh, I like where this is going!” He beamed, and without a moment’s hesitation removed both his shoes and socks and threw them by the bushes. Panting, he stared at me hungrily.

I backed toward the water, smiling mischievously, and undid the knot at the top of my halter-neck dress. It fell to the sand instantly.

“Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you said you wanted somewhere private?” I could only see his silhouette, but I could hear from his voice that he was very excited.

“Look around you, do you see anyone else here? Could you even make them out if they were standing just a few meters away?” I motioned down the length of the beach but did not give him a chance to respond. “No, it's too dark. Dark sand, dark water, dark sky. Within the depths of darkness— what better place is there to hide?”

My bra and underwear were next to greet the sand before I ran into the cascading black waves.

“I like your thinking!” The man tore his shirt off hurriedly but hesitated as he reached his belt-buckle. Caught in an indecisive moment, he turned his gaze behind him. Through the thick layer of trees he searched for the few emerging twinkles of light, looking for the cracks that would expose us to the streets crawling with clubbers. He heard them clearly enough, the yews and laughter of drunks, and no doubt wondered whether any would stumble by and discover our skinny-dipping. Then he patted something in his pocket as if unwilling to give it up.

“C’mon, honey!” I shouted to his silhouette. “You’re not going let me swim naked all alone now are you? You never know, there could be sharks in here and I might need a big strong man to protect me!”

He laughed and called back out. “Well, I’ll tell you what, sexy. If those shark nets don’t catch the bastards, then I will!” Lust won, as he finally relinquished his pants and underwear, and as he galloped into the surf after me all that remained on him was a gold chain around his neck.

It didn’t take long for the man to catch me in the waves and there he traced his fingers around my hips and breasts. Next, he grabbed my hair fiercely, pulling my head back, and pressed his lips and tongue into my mouth desperately.

I kissed back, insides tingling with anticipation.

He moved one hand to open up my thighs, and then moved his other to position his penis and pushed forward. He moved eagerly back and forth as I moved my mouth along his neck, which was comfortingly warm amidst the cool summer water. My tongue traced his salty-sweet skin and the pulse buried beneath. I could not refuse such an invitation.

He screamed as my teeth sunk into his flesh. I thrust my hand over his mouth to stifle the sound and severed his carotid artery with my teeth.

I drank the warm liquid like it was mother’s milk. When his moans grew weaker, I stabbed my hand into his chest, breaking the feeble bones of his ribcage. Inside his torso, my hand encapsulated his heart as it stubbornly continued its double beat. I playfully squeezed it tighter, and the organ fought back wanly. I knew that any tighter and its rhythm would cease; the flesh bursting from between my fingers.

I pulled it out roughly as the man gave a final weak moan.

The heart was still beating, weaker now with every subsequent thump, struggling to survive. The organ was hot in my hands, very beautifully painted red and pink, with blue lines interwoven. This was the time it was still nutritious, still full of flavor, still full of immortality.

I devoured it at once.

****

You may think me a monster, a cold-blooded killer, an abomination.

You'd be right.

I wasn't always this way. I was once human—no more than a girl—scared and deserted, floating aimlessly through a city of blood. Soon, that girl became angry and desired the power to change the world.

Then she got it.

However, this comes at a cost, and the currency is human hearts.

I am strong, fast, smart and next to invulnerable. I suppose that I am also evil. I have made peace with that by justifying what I do against the other kinds of evil out there. I know others will not be so quick to forgive my beastly appetite. Murder is murder— and cannibalism? Well, supposedly, that's just plain disgusting.

I'm not human anymore. I have ascended higher on the food chain.

Still, I do not think that these mere words will be enough to convince you, so I will take you back to how it all started; back to when my human life was stolen from me and I arose as something else.

Maybe then you will see that I am no more than a girl doing what she must to survive.

I stared forward, out through the taxi windscreen, into the gray littered streets I was traversing, into what was considered the slum of the Blue Coast. The day typically displayed a dismal site, where the footpaths were cluttered with plastic bags and pictures of naked girls advertising their 'escort' roles. Cigarette butts—very few of the tobacco variety—smashed bottles of beer and squashed cans of premixed alcoholic drinks consorted the disdainful sight. However, none of that was as unsightly and so horribly scented as the scattered deposits of vomit. Seldom did any council workers venture to clean these streets. Any normal person who did not want to integrate into the city's underworld averted the suburb of Paradise Grove, also known as Devil's Eden. When it came to me, though, time and again I found myself coming straight back into the hell-mouth.

It was not that I had a death wish, for as a reporter my very life would be at peril in the wrong areas, it was simply business that drew me. Dangerous business, unfinished business, organized business. It was because Devil's Eden was home to the notorious Foxes that it pulled me deep into its belly. There were always new scandals here—crimes, murders—but nothing was ever done about it. This was their land, even the cops knew to avoid it, but some reporters were just too foolish to listen to reason. Some reporters thought they could actually make a difference, but most just made fertilizer for the gardens of paradise.

The recent dance hit tune Serenity All Night Long resounded from my lap. I reached into my crimson handbag and whipped out my phone. It was Sandra. I pushed no immediately.

“Not gonna answer?” the taxi driver queried.

“What's the point, when you know what they're gonna say? Besides, I don't particularly feel like hearing verbal abuse at the moment.”

“Don't approve, huh?” He paused, as a subtle sideways glance caught me in his periphery. His lips pressed together, pulled up in that motion I recognized all too well as a face of judgment. “Perhaps they’re just looking out for you?”

Yes, he was indeed judging me for my scanty top, mini-skirt, three-inch stilettos, and black eyeliner combo.

“They are,” I answered simply.

His silence stated his agreement with my declined caller. To the hairy, plump, middle-aged man I was another hooker looking to sell her body for money or drugs. I made no attempt to correct him of my true agenda. I was still trying to set my mind into the role I was about to play.

Contrary to my appearance, this time I was not going for one of those facades, but as a bartender, albeit a bartender in a strip club. So sexy was key, and most definitely ditsy, but offering my body for that purpose was far from my intentions. Still, I could not delude myself from the potential risk of that outcome being brought about without my consent. I knew that, with these people, it would be all too easy for one of them to jump me over the next couple of hours, pin me down, cover my mouth and stifle my screams as they made their way with me.

Keep it together, Jane, you can do this! I counseled myself.

The Foxes need to be stopped. I will not run away, I will not hide my head in the sand. I will expose them, stop them, and do my part to save the city. It is up to my generation to summon the courage and restore peace to the Blue Coast. Today, I will find the evidence, then I'll print my article and finally people will