The Devil Next Door

45

The shadows were long.

It was almost time.

The Huntress was still waiting in the second hand store which was now growing wonderfully dark as the sun fell behind the trees leaving a smear of blood on the horizon. True nightfall would be in fifteen minutes.

The clan was growing impatient.

She made a grunting sound and they quieted.

Out in the street, the girl was in the car. The man was standing beside it, looking confused, looking troubled. The Huntress could smell his indecision, his weakness, blowing through the screen of the window. He was ripe for the taking. If they rushed out now, he might fight, but it would be half-hearted, without conviction.

She waited, sniffing the air.

She smelled green, growing things, the musky urine scent of the pack. She was catching a curious after odor of the girl in the car, too. The scent of her body wash, her sweat, the perfumed stink of her hair, and the ripeness between her legs that made the Huntress feel hungry.

The males of the clan smelled it, too.

Being who and what they were, they only wanted to follow it to its source. To take the offering of the girl, to break her and fill her with their seed. But the Huntress would not allow it and they knew so. They only wanted to run wild and free; she was teaching them discipline.

As the night air began to push steadily in, pure and sweet with night-blossoms, the Huntress felt her nipples harden. There was electricity in her blood, an expectant rhythm to her heart.

She watched the man.

In a few moments now…