Season of Mists

Prologue

No one heard her body fall to the cold ground, eyes wide and clear blue. Low-lying clouds drifted upon damp cobblestones as the sound of his footsteps died. He paused for a moment and looked into them, watching glimmers of his reflection in the glare from the gas lamps.

She was lovely; auburn hair pulled up with wisps curling around her porcelain face. Tenderly, he pressed his gloved fingers against that smooth skin, bending down to inhale her scent. Something inside of him growled, howling with an unquenchable thirst. The copper aftertaste was still fresh on his taste buds. His nearness to her made his mouth throb, yearning to pierce her flesh once more, but he knew the desire was futile.

Once the heart stopped beating and her blood ceased, the taste of her soured like curdled milk. Soon, her stench would permeate through the skin, drawing anyone in a five-mile radius. Well, those like him at least. Unlike many in his world, he knew London drew a thin veil over the strange shadows of the night. If he opened himself up, freed his mind of the bond that kept his presence hidden, their guise would falter.

He was a traveler, new to the hunting grounds. Adrenaline from his previous kill lingered on his taste buds. Youth fueled the desire, tasting sweeter than the aged. The luxury of savoring his work was denied as the knowledge of the others tickled his peripheral vision. Already one drew near. The scent of determined intent brought on a series of violent and uncomfortable sneezes. He was being tracked.

“Well, it looks like you’ve found me.” Out of curiosity, he reached out to the thoughts of his night companion. Instantly, his senses heightened and the intense aroma of bodily fluids sickened him. It took a great amount of will to close himself off and when the link faded, he panted from the effort.

Although he knew the identity of his tracker, the knowledge came with a price. Now, the one who sought him also knew who he was as well. It was time to move on. Soon, his victim would reveal her secrets to the authorities and to the world.

The Council would know.

For the last time, he gazed upon her angelic features. Her wet hair blanketed his shoe and he forced himself to savor the image a moment longer before melting into the shadowed alleyway. It was how he wanted to remember the delicious morsel, kneeling at his feet, feeding his hunger.

* * * * *

“You’ll have to leave tonight, Molly. There’s no way you can stay here now.” Evelyn snapped, looking down at the unconscious body of their master’s son lying on the floor. Her bare foot brushed against the man’s chestnut curl.