The house was like any other in the neighborhood...one of those ultra-modern affairs that speak of both comfort and wealth. Apart from her distinctive little touches, there was little to distinguish it from the two which bordered on the sides. The lawn was well kept, the trees were trimmed low and the water in the pool was undoubtedly sparkling clean. He would expect nothing less. She liked everything to be in order.
By now he felt that he knew her...although not as well as he would come to know her by the end of the night. He had been following her for weeks. He knew her schedule. He knew her habits. He knew almost all there was to know about her...or so he thought. Once he had been tempted to approach her in the grocery store, but that wasn't a part of the plan and he had to stick to the plan. Without the plan there would be mistakes, and mistakes could not be tolerated.
He did a quick mental check to make sure he had all that he needed. It was an unnecessary step but he prided himself on being thorough...not that there was much danger here. Perhaps somewhere else the sight of an unknown male sitting alone in a parked car would have already resulted in a call to the authorities. But this was one of those utopian residential areas where the privileged class kept to themselves and thought that their money bought them the right to safety...where strangers would be let into the house once they wore the right uniform and said the right things. Bad things didn't happen here...they couldn't happen here.
More than once he had found himself wondering why she lived alone. She was an attractive woman. Surely she could have her pick of willing partners, but the only person he had ever seen coming or going was the girl. Perhaps she too had been lulled by the false sense of security that came with expensive alarm systems...systems that were all to easy to disable once you had a little knowledge and a lot of practice. It wasn't safe for her to live alone. He would have to tell her that. There were too many dangerous people out there...people like him.
Finally the lights in her bedroom window went out. There was need to rush...no need to ruin things by being too eager. She had trouble falling asleep. He had seen her buying sleeping pills twice and he figured he had at least a half an hour before they kicked in fully. Then he would be free to do his work in peace without any nasty surprises. He hated surprises. He hated waiting, but he knew that patience was a vital part of the game. All good things come to those who wait after all, and things had been very good to him.
It was time. He got out of the car, strapped his bag to his back, and took one last look around. Everything was dark and silent, just the way he liked it. All the happy people were fast asleep in their happy homes. Just us out here he thought, and uttered a low chuckle before moving around to the part of the wall he had scoped out days before. There was a chip in the concrete, small enough to not be very visible but big enough to provide an excellent foothold. He was over the wall in seconds. This was going to be a good night.
*****
Timmy McDonald was awake in his room. This was much more of a regular occurrence than his parents knew. He wasn't up to any mischief, but they had strict rules about everything including bed times. Timmy knew all about the eight hours of sleep policy but his own body could survive on much less. Many nights he would stay up for hours with the lights off, just looking at the stars...content to think his own thoughts. He supposed that some would call him delicate or sensitive...perhaps not the best adjectives for a boy of fourteen. Certainly there had been some name calling when he had first started at this high school, but that was only until...well, it was better not to think about it. There were other things much more pleasant to ponder.
And so it was that Timmy managed to see a figure, dressed in all black, scale the wall and run across the lawn to his neighbor's front door. He was a smart boy and knew instinctively that one man on his own was hardly likely there to commit a burglary...not in this neighborhood. His intentions were undoubtedly much more sinister and Timmy felt a knot of hatred form in his belly. He considered calling the police, as a good boy should, and his hand hovered over the phone for a few seconds before he lowered it again. Even if they caught him and put him in jail, he'd be out again eventually. No, there was a better way...justice would be served.
*****
He stood in the doorway and tried to shake off the feeling of being watched. There was no one there and he berated himself for what he saw as a sign of weakness. His nerves were iron bars and he wasn't about to let one bend now. There was enough light from outside to make out vague silhouettes, but that was fine by him. He was good with his hands and could pass as almost any type of repairman...he'd had his chance to learn the layout of the house already. He closed the front door as quietly as he could and rested his bag beside him. He wouldn't need all its contents just yet.
He supposed that he could make do with whatever tools he found at his hunting grounds, but he wasn't the type to just make do. No, his tools were like his children...each and every one made to his specifications. He was proud of them. Often times he would simply take them out, arrange them neatly on a table and let the memories of their work come back to him...sometimes a caress here or a gentle cradling there. They were like him...perfect at what they did. They never let him down.
He bypassed the stairs for the moment. He knew the bedrooms were up there but he supposed that he had his own little fetishes. He liked to look around first...to touch and to smell, and to let his senses drink in as much as they could about his prey. He was about to start his exploration when a muffled noise from the back of the house stopped him in his tracks. He tried to recall which room was back there...not a guest room...no...the kitchen. She must have just come down. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. This was not the night for her to break her patterns. Still, it could be salvaged. He would have preferred to see the look in her eyes when she woke up and saw him hovering above her, but he could make this work. He slipped the gun out his bag and crept down the corridor.
He abhorred guns. They were so cold and impersonal. There was nothing with which to get the hands dirty. Nonetheless, he found that they had their uses when it came to eliciting co-operation...and fear. It was the fear that he thrived on. It was what he lived for. It was what others died for. There were no voices in his head. He didn't believe that he was an instrument of anyone's righteous vengeance. He simply needed their fear in order to survive, to grow stronger. He often wished he could keep his playthings longer, to feed off their fear longer, but that might invite too many unnecessary risks. He was good at avoiding risks...had made it into an art really.
The kitchen light was on. He stood with his back against the wall and debated his next move. Should he make a noise and grab her when she came out to investigate? Or should he just march in, gun aimed between the eyes? Those precious eyes...those eyes looking at him with terror and desperation. It was the eyes that made the decision for him. Her back was turned when he walked into the room. Years of training had taught him how to be completely silent, but still her body went rigid, as though she sensed him there. He wasn't surprised. The hunted often sensed the presence of the hunter, just as they knew there was no hope of getting away. He felt his heart start to race as she began to turn, not out of any anxiety but rather out of anticipation.
He was destined to be disappointed. There was no fear here, only what he would swear to be contempt. Didn't she know what he was? He got the idea that she thought of him not as a threat but an insignificant annoyance. He would take his time with her...much more than he usually did. He would make sure that she cracked. She crooked her head in an almost animal-like gesture and seemed to be studying him in much the same manner as one would observe an insect that one hadn't chanced upon before. It was disconcerting and, for the first time that he could remember, he found himself faltering.
He became aware of a rustling and then movement behind him, but that wasn't possible. No one else was supposed to be here. He had studied her routines...knew them better than his own.
"Honey? Why are you ....?"
He was startled by the voice and in his panic he spun around, arm outstretched, catching her across the side of her face. He hadn't meant to. Pain was for later, on his own terms, but he was fast feeling as though he had little control over this particular situation and it was unhinging his deadly resolve. Such mistakes were unacceptable and, even before he heard the growl he knew it was an error that would cost him dearly.
*****
She would have let him live. She already knew what he was...that he fancied himself a predator. What did he know about the hunt? She felt a laugh welling up inside her. Did the silly cub really think that she had been unaware of his presence all these weeks? She had known of him from the start. She would only have scared him a little for daring to trespass on her territory. Who would believe him anyway? They would lock him away in a padded cell and throw away the key. That would have suited her just fine. Killing was so...messy. But her love had come downstairs against her wishes and now he had touched what was hers. He had drawn her blood. For that she would happily drink his.
She glanced out the window and caught sight of the moon, bright and full. It was time. She had long ago learnt to control what slept within her, and was no longer dependent on the lunar cycle. Still, there was something in the silvery light that drew her. She could feel the change coming upon her...the intense pain, and the freedom. As the last of her bones broke and set itself into place she howled for the others. She did not need their strength or their numbers but it was the principle of the matter.
*****
Susan Jamieson was sitting with her husband Terry. The kids were already in bed and she was curled against him in the sofa. She really couldn't care less what inane show was on. Instead she was lost in thinking how lucky she was. Terry was a good father and an even better husband. He was the kindest, most gentle man she had ever known and she was hopelessly in love with him. She was making ready to move closer so she could draw even more heat from his body when they heard it.
When Terry turned to her, his eyes darkening to match hers, the only emotion she saw was fury. They knew what the sound meant. Their alpha's mate had been attacked. It was a transgression not taken lightly by the pack. One by one they emerged from their respectable homes...lawyers, bankers and working class heroes who had moved up in life. The streets were filled with much snarling as they converged, so much so that any errant passerby would either flee, question his sanity, or possibly both. It was time for the hunt.
*****
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some sort of sick nightmare that he had stumbled upon. He was home in his bed, not running for his life from room to room while a creature that wasn't supposed to exist was snapping at his heels. All he knew was that he had been transfixed by the sight of the other girl with blood streaming down her face where he had hit her...and he had turned back to the sight of...of...that. He had emptied all his bullets into the creature's chest and all it had done was to incur even more of its wrath.
The downstairs of the house was a mess. What he hadn't thrown over or pulled down in an effort to create an obstacle course had fallen victim to the creature's rampage. He had been running blindly with no thought other than to get away. He had no idea where the girl went...probably back upstairs. The one time he had managed to get to the stairs, he had almost been felled by a large...well...paw. He barely noticed that his frenzied attempt at escape had led him right back to the kitchen but, as he slammed the door shut and turned the lock, some remaining shred of sanity realized that this could be his salvation.
There was only one barrier left between him and freedom...the sliding doors leading out to the back yard. Just one more little push and he would be out of this cursed place, and then he could erase every memory of ever having been here. He would leave...start over...look for new hunting grounds. By this time tomorrow he would be well on his way to re-inventing himself. The wooden door behind him wouldn't last much longer. Already it was splintering. He steadied his mind and readied his body for the rush. All he had to do was get out there, run around the house and jump the wall...easy enough. Then he would be free.
Just as his hand was reaching for the door, he saw a dark shape materialize at the far end of the pool. A dog perhaps? But she didn't have a dog. It didn't make sense...then again so many things about this night didn't make any sense. With mounting terror it finally dawned on him that that the growing silhouette wasn't that of a dog but rather of a wolf. Whoever heard of a wolf roaming the suburbs, and how did it get in? Before he had a chance to ponder this, the first shape was joined by another...a smaller replica of the thing that had chased him through the house. Then another...and another.
It was at this point that his mind finally let go, as did his bladder. He forgot about being strong. He forgot about being the hunter. He was so awed by the sight that he stood there motionless, oblivious to the fact that the beast behind him had finally broken through the door and was roaring its displeasure at having to wait. But he quickly remembered when the first rip of claws assaulted his back. He screamed from the pain. It was the first of many for him that night.
*****
In the morning there would be time for cleaning up the blood. Evidence would have to be hidden. Traces would have to be eliminated, if any could be found...not that there was likely to be much effort placed into searching for a killer of innocent women. The police would probably just be happy that another monster had vanished. But that was later...not tonight. Tonight the beast was hungry, and it was time to feed.
The End