Chapter 1 - Lexy

Chapter 1 – Lexy

You go through your everyday life; wake up, brush your teeth, kiss your kids, slap your wife on the ass. Drive to work, curse the toll road, adjust your stapler, stare at the mail lady. Head home, curse the toll road again, waltz into a comfortable house where a warm dinner waits. Have a glass of wine. Hell, have two. Read your daughter a scary bed-time story, tuck your son in and promise to play baseball with him, and take your wife to be to remind yourself that you are still alive and still a man.

For the majority of the world, it is the same story every day. Life. You wake up and go about your business, dying a little more inside with every mundane step you take. So many people go through their day with blinders on their eyes, ignorant to the world around them. How many people do you think truly question reality, and allow that fleeting thought that perhaps there is something more then meets the eye? Those that pause in their day to think about such things are oftentimes interrupted by the most mundane – a taxi flies by, splashing them with water, or the boss screams about a deadline, or a kid falls down the stairs – and that thought is lost again, off somewhere in the ether.

There are precious few who see the world as it truly is. Blessed – or perhaps cursed – with an understanding of the undercurrent of our society.

I was that person, once upon a time. I was a completely mundane paralegal, slaving day in and out for a small law firm in Chicago. My routine was the same every day – wake up, go to work, come home to an empty apartment and watch re-runs with the cat, eat bon-bons and swear I’ll exercise in the morning to make up for it, fall into a dreamless sleep. I was dying a little inside every morning, without even realizing that I was slowly killing myself. I thought I was content with my life, and I never really let myself think about the idea that I might be missing something more.

In the back of my mind, I thought, ‘If there is anything more to life then this, then I’m already missing it. I’ll pretend everything is perfect, because I don’t want to end up hating myself and my life.’ Better to be happy and ignorant then unhappy in your enlightenment, right? That was my thought at least.

I could tell you all about who I was back then. How I lived my life surrounded by monotony and delicious Godiva chocolates. I could bore you for hours, but that woman is long dead. I looked at myself in an old photo the other day, and I didn’t even recognize her. So innocent, so young…part of me would give anything to return to those days, where the most I had to worry about was what flavor of Lean Cuisine was occupying my freezer space.

Like many epiphanies, my life changed in a matter of moments. It was something small; something that most people would have ignored and passed by. Hell, most days, I would have missed it myself. I would still be living in my blissful ignorance. But for some reason on that particular night, I saw more then I was ever meant to see. In that brief moment, an entirely new world opened up to me.

It was the middle of March and freezing cold for Chicago that time of year. I was having one of those days already; you know the kind where nothing goes right for you. I had a run in my hose, I dropped my beloved double chocolate mocha, and my computer devoured a report an hour before the deadline. The final straw – the dreaded sound of my favorite heel snapping on the concrete. Yeah, it was one of those days.

I left the office three hours later then I normally would on a Wednesday, trying to finish the report that my boss had graciously given me an extra day to complete. By the time I was stepping out of the office it was dark, all of the shops in the area long closed. Most nights, I would have hailed myself a cab and been done with it. After the frustration of my day, I felt like I needed to blow off some steam. I pulled on my heavy wool coat, the sneakers I kept stashed in my bottom drawer, and I set out on the three mile hike home. The walk took me through some less then desirable neighborhoods, but the little bottle of mace in my purse and cell phone hidden in my pocket reassured me.

It has been three years since that night, and I still remember every detail. Looking back, I can recognize that heavy feeling of dread in my stomach, a feeling that at the time was chalked up to a frustrating day. I was so wrapped up in myself and my own irritation that I ignored all of the warning signs. Bells and whistles and alarms and a marching band couldn’t make me wake up.

I don’t know why I stopped. There was no sound, nothing that would force me to halt my rapid march towards chocolate and wine. It might have been cosmic intervention or my brain finally catching up to the fact that something was not right, that huge warning signs were waving all over the place. Or maybe some kind of deeply ingrained sixth sense, tingling up my spine and reminding me to open my eyes and truly look. Whatever it was, it made me freeze in my tracks and come to my senses, looking around me. I stopped in front of a pizzeria, the smell of pepperoni and cheese nearly enough to drive me wild. A neon sign shone down around me, alerting the world that Joe’s Pizza was Hot! Fresh! and most of all, Delicious!

A man and a woman stood in the dark alley, just barely in sight. If I’d stopped a foot further back or forward, I wouldn’t have even seen them. Time seemed to slow all around me as I watched them, curiosity rising even as a distant part of my brain screamed and prodded at me to keep moving. It was repeating the Big City Mantra, ‘Head down, move along, nothing to see here, don’t stop, don’t get involved!’ The numbness of my anger and frustration was quickly fading, transformed into a sprig of terror, my emergency bells exploding in my head.

Against my better judgment, I ignored all of the warning signs, watching the couple in what appeared to be a lovers embrace. A tall man, his body mostly obscured by a heavy wool coat and a beautiful young woman, fine blonde hair pulled out of her elegant French twist and falling around their faces, obscuring their expressions. She was in an expensive dress and heels, and my mind tried to comprehend as it babbled, ‘God you are such a perv! They’re just a nice young couple, out on a date, enjoying themselves. You know what your mother would have said – spring is in their blood. Lets just…move along, and leave them be. They’ll be angry.’

He had her pushed up against the grimy wall and I winced. That dress was expensive, and wall was filthy – I sure hoped he’s worth it. He had one hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck. I watched as he continued to kiss her neck, her eyes closed in an expression of pure ecstasy as her hands ran up and down his arm slowly, like a woman in a dream. Part of me felt dirty, watching what was obviously a private moment between two consenting adults. But another part of me urged me forward, closer to them.

I felt like I was entering some kind of crazy dream world as I stepped closer to them, bathed in the neon light. My mind was screaming, begging and pleading with me to turn around and run away. I silenced that part of my mind, ignoring her as I continued forward. It felt as though something was drawing me closer towards the couple that wasn’t really a couple. My stomach turned – one part anger, one part worry, and two parts fear, and I swallowed hard on the bile that was threatening to rise.

He shifted ever so slightly as I watched them, eliciting a soft sound from the woman. From my new vantage point, I was able to see something on her, something wet on the side of her neck. Something dark and wet and thick, running slowly down the pristine peach of her skin. I suppressed a shudder, taking another hesitant step forward. Headlights from a passing car illuminated the couple. It was only for a moment, but it confirmed my worst fears. The red was shocking against her skin, and I could only gape as I watched it trickle down towards the swell of ample bosom. My mind continued to try to reason, that little voice reaching a fever pitch in the back of my mind, ‘They’re just kinky! Crazy, kinky, kooky kids! They’re just enjoying the cool night…its March…its spring.’ Yeah. Crazy kinky sex in the freezing night air, in a bad part of town, in a filthy side alley that looked like it was best suited to a cameo in CSI. I ignored that pathetic voice and stepped closer towards them, holding my breath. Neither lifted their head, both seemed to be totally engrossed in their private little moment.

Terror coursed through my veins, my blood pounding in my ears. I felt hot and cold at the same time, but I was determined. My mind railed against what I was seeing, desperately attempting to convince me that there was nothing there to see, that the world wasn’t really more then I thought. Move along, nothing to see here, life is just peachy and fine. Something deeper in my brain demanded to know the truth, to know what he was doing to this poor woman. To know what he was, though my brain was already trying to rationalize that one away. My fingers fumbled in my pocket, searching out my cell phone and grasping it tightly.

I called out to them, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. He’d know I was terrified, but maybe I could scare him off anyway, “Excuse me? What are you doing to her? Ma’am, are you alright?”

The man whipped around, his eyes boring into my soul, and I felt my mouth go dry and my stomach flip-flop. Good thing I hadn’t eaten all day.

Blood trailed down his chin from one side of his perfectly formed lips. They were stained red, presumably with the blood of his victim. Green, cat-like eyes burned from a pale face, porcelain like skin framed by thick dark hair that begged to have fingers run through it. His hair was long and pulled back into a tight braid, away from his face. ‘All the better to stay out of your food,’ I thought.

My initial reaction of terror was tempered with a burning lust for him. Beauty seemed to radiate from him, overcoming my instant revulsion and almost making me forget that his face was smeared with blood like some devil child at a birthday party. He gave me a humorless smile, his lips stretching thinly over pristine white teeth. I could see a hint of something in his smile that made my stomach drop. I was no fan girl, but I knew what they were.

He spoke softly, his voice conveying a tone that brooked no disobedience, “Perhaps, little bird, you should just turn around and go about your business.” He smiled to me again, before returning to the warm meal before him. I shivered as the woman let out a soft whimper, a noise that I knew wasn’t entirely from pain. She was enjoying it, almost as much as he seemed to be.

Much to my chagrin, I nearly obeyed him. I almost turned on my heel and walked away from all of it, exactly as he had suggested. I struggled with my desire to leave, to brush off the encounter and chalk it up to a crazy couple in lust, to forget the strange but viscerally beautiful man before me. Somewhere, I knew that if I left at that very moment, I would be able to forget it all. I would have the chance to brush off the encounter and return to my mundane life, living and dying slowly just like I’d always wanted.

I resisted the urge. The memory of his eyes seemed to burn into my soul, but instead of running off like good little sheep, I took another shaky step towards him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir…I think perhaps you should let her go.” I clenched my hands tightly, nails digging into my palms, praying that he wouldn’t be able to see the way I trembled.

He let out a soft, guttural growl, turning to face me again. An evil smile spread slowly across those sensual lips. The woman let out a soft, whimpery cry, seeming to be unhappy that his attentions had been diverted again. I watched him, dumbstruck, as he cupped his victims face in both hands. He murmured something softly, the language completely foreign to my ears. The woman seemed to understand though, her eyes fluttering closed as she sank gracefully to the ground, her forehead resting on her knees. She seemed to be in a deep sleep, though I had no idea how anyone could sleep at a time like this. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t sleep for weeks.

My mind fell silent as he turned towards me; apparently it was too terrified to even bitch at me. The blood stood stark against his pale skin as he moved closer, his steps meticulously calculated. He moved slowly like a panther stalking its prey. I stumbled away for him, glad that I was wearing sturdy sneakers rather then my flimsy heels. I clutched my purse to my chest as though it would somehow save me from the creature in my path.

His voice was cool and low, softly accented even though my terror struck brain couldn’t quite ping what country he was from. “One last chance, little bird. Turn around and go home, forget what you saw. Go back to your life, sad as it might be. Run along and leave us be.”

That desire to run was nearly overwhelming. My lizard brain was struggling to gain control, and it was screaming, ‘Flight, flight you dumb bitch! No, no no no, don’t fight! I said flight! God you are stupid…’ Believe me when I say I wanted to. I wanted nothing more then to run away from those dead eyes and that miserable looking girl as fast and as far as my feet could carry me. I think if I’d run that day, I would still be running. Moving from city to city, always peering around corners and waiting to see those panthers eyes again right before they pounced.

Running would have been the rational thing to do. So of course, I didn’t. I stood my ground, firmly digging my heels in. My father always said my stubbornness came through his Irish blood, and that heritage was usually a credit in my favor. I can’t tell you what compelled me to stay. It might have been the sad girl; I couldn’t leave her at the mercy of this beautiful monster. Or it might have been those startling green eyes that seemed to burn into my soul. They still do, daily, if you want to know the truth.

All I could do was shake my head, swallow hard, and struggle to find my voice. I put on a bit of a smile, though I can only imagine how ghastly it must have looked. I shook my head, slipping my cell phone out of my pocket and dialing quietly, “No, I think you need to leave now.”

I didn’t see him move. Before I could inhale, or complete my desperate 911 call, he was upon me. Without even touching me he pushed me back into the wall, and somewhere in the back of my brain I cursed the dry cleaning bill that would come from this little encounter. He slammed his hands into the brick on either side of my head and I let out a terrified scream, my eyes darting around hoping for a white knight to ride in and save me. No knights, Lexy. Just stupid paralegals who meddle in the affairs of others.

I forced myself to look up into those searing eyes, the tiny me in my mind rocking back and forth and uttering all of the prayers she could recall from my years as a Catholic school girl. Unfortunately, I’d never been very devout. I recoiled from the look in those eyes – a coldness that I’d never seen before. I’d worked as a paralegal for several years, and I’d encountered more then one hardened killer. Even they had more life in their eyes then this guy did. He was a true monster, and I was pretty sure I was looking into the face of evil.

He looked down at me for a long moment, a smoldering, seductive smile stretching across his lips. I watched his smile, those made only in Hollywood teeth sliding into view again, as large as life and only inches away from my face. He let out a low chuckle, and I could smell the copper on his breath, a left-over gift from Ms. Young and Tasty.

I gagged on the smell as he bent close to my neck, murmuring softly like a lover into my ear. “You are either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, my Little Bird. I haven’t quite decided yet. You have no idea who you are toying with, girl.” His words were like honey, caressing me with warm tones and that oh-so-sexy accent that I couldn’t quite place. Even through my terror, I could feel a sense of calm threatening to invade my brain.

I swallowed painfully, struggling against a blanket of peacefulness that was trying to steal over my consciousness. I glanced up at him, my heart skipping a beat in my chest. I bit the inside of my cheek hard, resolving to stand firm before this man whose very presence seemed to fill the entirety of the alley. I started running through witty comments that would have inevitably ended in my demise, with him laughing as he lopped off my head. He must have read my mind, for he smiled down at me and chuckled humorlessly, the chiseled features of his face never softening. He let a hand slowly stoke my cheek, his touch matching his cool, statuesque features. I shied away from his touch as best I could, swallowing hard, “What the hell are you?”

He just laughed, taking his amusement from my obvious fear and discomfort. His voice was soft, but it seemed to fill the night air, reverberate around me, “I am the night, Little Bird.”

I was frozen. I couldn’t say anything and I couldn’t move. I looked into his eyes, and I felt as though I was drowning in the green of them. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment it seemed as though I’d forgotten how to breathe, perhaps even my heart had forgotten how to beat. I don’t know how long we stayed that way, but he finally broke my entrancement with a laugh, this one filled with what sounded like genuine mirth. He smirked at me and turned away, his hand resting on my cheek for just a moment.

“We’ll meet again, Little Bird.”

Before I could blink, he was gone. All that remained of him was his scent; a quickly fading concoction of sandalwood, musk, and fresh blood. I could still see his eyes, those cold brilliant eyes burning into his soul. I tried to suppress a shudder and failed miserably. Fear, revulsion and desire all rolled into one confusing ball in my stomach.

I will never forget that painful feeling of loss and terror, the air around me having taken on a sharp chill that I hadn’t noticed before. I was terrified of him, I was disgusted by him, but I still couldn’t deny some small measure of attraction. That little rational voice in my head, so quick to bounce back after nearly becoming a midnight snack, just had to put in her $0.02, ‘Yay! Look at you! I’m going to call you Stockholm Girl from now on!’

A soft whimpering from the ground brought reality rushing back around me. The attractive blonde was sitting up on the pavement, shivering and holding her bloody neck, weeping and bewildered. With it, another wave of nausea swept over me. I finished my call and rushed to her side, trying to push her assailant from my mind.

The woman, Annabelle, remembered nothing about the attack. She recalled partying at a nearby club with some friends and leaving early, heading home on her own. The club she recalled was on the other side of town, and she had no recollection about how she crossed the city with a strange man she had never met before. The police questioned her before bundling her off into an ambulance. The wounds on her neck weren’t life threatening, but her apparent lack of memory was of some concern.

“Ma’am? We need your statement…” I looked up at the adorable officer and sighed a little. He looked like he was all of 12 years old. In my mind, I ran through what I had seen, and what I was going to tell him. ‘Yes, officer! That poor woman was attacked by what I am fairly sure is a mythical creature of nightmares! He was terribly handsome, in that serial killer way. Don’t worry though; I was able to chase him off with my charming good looks and my rapier wit.’ Yeah. Right. She’d be joining her new friend Annabelle down at the local nuthouse. They could get matching straight jackets and room together, at least until Mr. Tall Dark Handsome and Deadly came back for his leftovers.

I shuddered violently and bit my lip, holding back something that would have probably come out as a gruesome mix of giggle and sob. The officer looked at me sharply, and I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t as young as he looked. Nor as stupid. He eyed me knowing that I was holding something back and gently touched my arm.

“Ms. Roman, is everything alright? What can you tell me about what you saw this evening? I assure you, we will do everything in our power to keep you safe and to find the man who did this…”

For just a moment I was tempted to tell him everything. His comforting blue eyes and sandy blonde hair were so different from the girls’ attacker. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, that rational voice gently reminded me how much I liked the use of my arms. I just smiled a little and shook her head, “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of shook up, I guess. I didn’t see much. I was on my way home from the office…as I was walking by, some guy nearly ran me over. I didn’t get a very good look at him…he had black hair and he was about 6’2, wearing a long coat. I looked in here and she was on the ground, crying. I guess I spooked him or something, walking up.”

I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t believe a word of it. He could see that I had seen something that had affected me more deeply then I was letting on. He sighed and shook his head, the status quo overtaking his desire for knowledge. Flipping his notebook shut he nodded to me, “Thank you, Miss Roman. We’ll definitely be in touch…”

It had been a long day, and I was running on autopilot. I returned the smile, shakily, murmuring, “Call me Lexy…”