Cold Black

When I saw him, the word 'evil' whispered in the back of my mind. If
anyone had asked, I would have been hard pressed to explain what
inspired the sense of dread that settled in my stomach. On the surface,
the man was strikingly handsome, the kind of person who immediately
attracts all attention upon entering a room. He was the sort of person
that other men envied and women vied for. The man was dressed-- draped
--in black and the color suited his fair complexion. His pale hair
spilled over his broad shoulders in soft layers, lending him an almost
feminine appearance. He was tall and slender, the hint of well-formed
muscles outlined by the taut cloth of his shirt.

No, his appearance gave me no cause for worry. Admiration, perhaps,
but not worry. It was the look in his eyes. They shone with something
inexplicable and vaguely revolting, sending unwanted chills up my
spine. His eyes were as black as the clothing he wore and just as
devoid of feeling. No pupils visible, only a fathomless void. Those
eyes spoke of pure evil and malicious intent. Seductive and disturbing
all at once. His pallor, rather than clashing with the darkness of his
eyes, complimented them perfectly. Cold black eyes that offered a
glimpse into a hollow soul, set off against the pristine, almost
colorless skin.

For some reason, I continued to stare at the man, convincing myself
that there was no danger as he had yet to notice me or even glance in
my direction. I watched him for quite some time, entranced by the
display yet horrified by the hold he seemed to have over me, even at a
distance. He glided across the room with fluid grace, pausing here and
there to dazzle some unsuspecting partygoer. As trite as it sounds, he
reminded me of a cat on the prowl, lithe and self-assured. He was
hunting, but with casual interest of a man shopping for a new
suit.

He strolled leisurely among the guests and occasionally condescended to
join a conversation. Any group he invaded was quickly consumed, all
eyes focused on him, every ear straining to catch the enticing words
that dripped from his perfectly shaped lips. The man did not stay with
any group very long before moving on to another willing knot of people.
I realized he was weeding. Discarding the unsuitable, searching for the
best picks. After a time, he joined a rather large group, among them a
young couple I had noticed earlier. They were your typical newlyweds,
disgustingly sweet and unable to keep their hands off each other. The
husband stood behind his wife with his arms wrapped comfortably around
her middle. She, in turn, leaned back on her lover with complete
contentment. As expected, they were enthralled with the beautiful man
who deigned to speak to them.

Gradually, the man's attention turned solely to that couple, focusing
all of his evil intent on those two innocents. He moved closer to them,
reaching out periodically to touch an arm or caress a shoulder, each
time growing bolder. The rest of the group continued their lively
conversation, oddly oblivious to the horror that was unfolding in their
midst. Suddenly the mysterious, handsome stranger was none of their
concern.

I continued to observe him from afar, a strong sense of fear welling up
inside me. The man continued to fondle the young couple as they became
increasingly disoriented. I felt as though I should do something and
quickly. Warn them, scream, something. Instead, I simply stood and
watched, too frightened to act and too fascinated to turn away. I
watched as he wrapped an arm around them both and buried one hand in
the other man's hair, clutching the tangled strands while moving his
other hand slowly down the woman's thigh, trapping both victims in one
embrace. He began to kiss the woman rather forcefully, eventually
moving his lips down to the curve of her neck. As he bent over her, his
hair fell forward and shielded his face. When the man raised his head
again, I half expected to see the clich?d fang wounds in the woman's
neck. There were none, of course. That man was no fabled creature of
the night. He was something much worse.

Without warning, the man glanced up and looked straight into my eyes.
We stared at each other for one disconcerting moment before a smirk
spread across the man's exquisite face. He had been aware of my
scrutiny all along. Holding my gaze mercilessly, he licked the woman's
ear and languidly began to trace a path down her neck with his tongue.
I swallowed hard, repulsed by the entire display, and turned away. I
walked across the room to the balcony as quickly as I could, still
reeling with revulsion, as much with my own fascination as with what I
witnessed. The young couple was in serious danger, I was certain, but
from what exactly I couldn't say. I didn't care to watch. I didn't want
to know.

I stepped outside, trying to cleanse my thoughts. I tried to focus on
anything and everything other than that evil man. The warm night air,
the clinking of wine glasses, the musicians beginning a new selection.
I latched onto the melody and breathed deeply. It was a haunting
refrain from an obscure opera. It sounded vaguely familiar and I
concentrated on drawing the name from the depths of my subconscious.
The story was a dark, lurid tale, that much I remembered. This piece
was played somewhere in the middle, the turning point.

"Death Takes a Mistress."

I was startled by the unexpected sound of a man's voice behind me and I
whirled around. It was him. The man was casually standing behind me, a
wineglass resting delicately in his hand. I stared at him for several
moments, too stunned to respond, too frightened to run. I attempted to
reply, hopefully with some comment innocuous enough to send him
searching for another, livelier companion, but the words were trapped
in my throat. My unease seemed to amuse the man immensely and he
continued speaking, a salacious smile contorting his features.

"That is the literal translation. I'm impressed that such mediocre
musicians were able to learn such a complex piece. Quite a
tale&;#8230;very dark and lurid."

He spoke with purpose, catching my eye as he concluded. He used the
precise words that ran through my mind when he approached. The
expression on my face must have been quite a sight, for he laughed
excessively. Laughter has always been one of my favorite sounds, but
his sent a new wave of revulsion through me. There was nothing joyful
about his laugh. It was frigid and maniacal.

I began to back away from the man slowly, trying to muster enough
strength to run. His eyes followed me as I cautiously made my way to
the door. Or, at least, that was what I thought I was doing. After a
moment, my back met with the hard stone wall. The man immediately took
advantage of my mistake and stepped in front of me. He advanced no
further, seemingly content with blocking my means of escape. Smiling
with satisfaction, he continued his dissertation on opera and
specifically the symbolism in the current piece. At strategically
placed intervals, he absently sipped his wine, holding the liquid in
his mouth for several moments before slowly swallowing. He stared into
my eyes as he repeated the process. Speak, sip, swallow. Speak, sip,
swallow. His smile grew broader with each passing moment as did my
discomfort. He clearly enjoyed my fear more than the sweet red fluid
swirling in his glass.

"I believe it is the turning point of the entire opera, isn't it? The
girl finally succumbs to the Black Knight. Innocence consumed by
Darkness...though one wonders how innocent she truly was if she could
allow herself to be seduced by a demon."

"No one is completely innocent," I blurted out, immediately regretting
my lack of reserve.

"Exactly, my dear Lilly...exactly..."

He leaned forward as he spoke, reaching past me to set the empty glass
on a small table to my right. He pulled back slowly, sniffing at my
hair as he moved. I was at war with myself for that brief span of time.
I was attracted to him and repulsed by him. His scent surrounded me,
making me dizzy with his essence. I feared him, I wanted him. I wanted
to run away, scream for help and I also longed to feel his body against
mine, tangle my fingers in his silken hair. Somehow, a lucid thought
made may through my disoriented haze of trepidation and desire. He
called me Lilly. I was about to ask how he knew my name when he paused
at my ear to whisper something.

"Innocence is so very boring, don't you think?"

I shuddered at the sensation of his cool breath against my warm skin,
too overwhelmed by his presence to push him away. Everything about him
was cold. His breath, his stare, his words. I felt myself being drawn
in by something. I didn't know exactly what was happening, but I knew
he was responsible. He removed his jacket, leaning in closely as he did
so. His proximity had a powerful affect on me and he knew
it&;#8230;he used it to his advantage. I fought through the fog and
tried to collect myself. I looked to my left and gazed inside at all of
the happy people enjoying themselves. It gradually dawned on me that
the young couple was nowhere to be found.

"What did you do to those people?" I tried to keep my voice firm, my
tone even.

"They are gone, Lilly, you should not concern yourself with
them."

"Then you killed them."

"I said they were gone. I didn't say they were dead&;#8230;" He
leaned towards me again, placing one hand against the wall on either
side of me. "Dead implies that they have gone on to another
existence&;#8230;they are simply gone."

We stood there in silence for a time as I considered his words. He had
me trapped between his arms, his body pinning me to the wall, yet he
did not touch me.

"Why did you do&;#8230;that&;#8230;to them?"

He smirked. "Why didn't you warn them," he moved closer, "or scream,"
and closer, "or something..."

He enjoyed mocking me with my own thoughts. It began to anger me and he
knew it, he reveled in it. He ran one hand down the wall, tracing the
outline of my figure. He leaned forward, a fraction of dead air the
only thing separating my face from his. He smiled at me and moved his
lips around to my ear.

"I came here for you, Lilly," he whispered with sickening glee. "You're
the one I want. The others were just..."

"A diversion."

"A demonstration," he corrected, "I wanted you to see me for what I
am." He continued to whisper in my ear, careful not to make physical
contact. "Were you impressed, my lovely Lilly?"

"I know what you are," I prattled desperately, "I knew from the moment
you walked in." I had, actually. The realization hit me hard. I knew
what he was the moment he glided into the room. I knew and I stayed
anyway...to watch...to learn.

"Naturally you recognized me. I would not have chosen you
otherwise."

I shivered. I was beginning to feel cold. I was beginning to
understand. "You chose&;#8230;"

The rest of my statement was abruptly cut off as the man finally
grabbed me. He jerked me forward and slightly off my feet, pulling me
to his mouth as he bestowed a crushing kiss, lips burning cold against
mine like dry ice. He held me tighter as the kiss became harsher, more
insistent. He parted my lips easily, plundering my mouth without regard
for how I might react. In fact, I did not react at all. I could have
pushed at him, struggled, but did not. Coldness began to seep into me,
spreading outward into every nerve ending. Rather than dulling my
senses, they were heightened.

A burst of energy entered me, eliciting a muffled gasp. Fueled by the
strange surge of power, I finally and wholeheartedly began to respond
to his kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, gripping his hair with one
hand as the other began to explore his body. I slipped my hand beneath
his shirt and ran my fingers along the smooth, cold skin underneath. I
tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to absorb him
completely. He matched my wandering hands touch for touch, pouring his
essence into me through that kiss.

I was gradually lowered to my feet as the strength seemed to drain from
the man. I leeched away the last drop of his power, supporting his
superior weight until I was certain he had nothing left to give me. We
parted and the man looked at me one last time, smiling with
satisfaction. He had succeeded. The triumph he felt lit his face as he
slumped to the balcony floor.

"I came here for you, Lilly."

I looked down at the once beautiful man crumpled at my feet and licked
my lip, enjoying the lingering taste of his death. I understood
completely now. He was looking for a successor. This was all a test. He
wanted to determine if I was strong enough to bear his gift. He came
here to make me the beneficiary of his legacy.

I picked up his discarded jacket and idly brushed away a few specks of
dust. I wrapped the black garment around myself, noting that it was
still perfumed with his scent. I knelt down and, with the last vestige
of pity I possessed, kissed the man's pallid lips. I pulled back and
stood to look down upon my predecessor. His eyes were still staring
upward blankly, cold and empty. The power that had shone so brightly
only moments ago was now coursing through my own veins.

I slipped back inside and discretely made my way to the front door,
eager to begin my new life. I couldn't hunt here. The man had already
consumed the freshest fruit. I would have to look elsewhere. As I
departed, I caught a glimpse of myself in an ornate mirror hanging in
the corridor. My hazel eyes were black now, just like his. Cold and
black.