PREY
10:59 Aug 25 2007
Times Read: 808
Kal drifted into the dirty backstreet pub, exchanging his cloak of darkness for a scarf of tobacco smoke, always blending. This bar was unknown to him – he’d only been in this part of the city twice before, but it was much as he expected. He always chose his hunting ground well, and knew straight away that this place was ripe. A palace of broken dreams.
The smell of stale cigarette smoke and even staler beer assaulted his nostrils. He walked across to the bar, his shoes sticking slightly to the grubby carpet with each step, and leaned confidently onto the counter. Look as if you belong – in a place like this, if you look like a regular, nobody questions the fact they don’t recognise you. After all, who looks at faces in here? There are backstreet dives like this all over the world – you only have to look, and Kal makes it his business to find them.
He bought a whiskey, and sidled up to the battered old juke box on the wall. He glanced about the place before carefully choosing the right “Golden Oldie” to bait his quarry. Slipping a pound coin into the slot, he picked three songs – “Love under Gold”, “Three Times a Lady”, and “Baker Street “ (the original Jerry Rafferty, of course). All old songs, but guaranteed to hook one of the lonely broken souls that hid behind veils of smoke.
The middle aged blonde with tear painted panda eyes sitting on a bar stool cried into her gin and lemon throughout the Commodores. The raven haired anorexic hiding in the corner sniffled when Rafferty’s sax wailed to her, and the overweight raucous flirt went quiet throughout the Dire Straits number. Kal chose.
The next evening, Kal walked back into the tavern of lost souls at exactly half past ten. As he expected, raucous flirt was laughing with the men who were trying to decide whether they should toss for her, or share her; Blonde Panda was trying to chat up the gay barman; and his chosen prey sat in her little corner cradling whatever exotic liqueur the bar had on tonight. Every now and then the rep would persuade the landlord to buy whatever special offers were on promotion, and there was always some market for them.
Kal selected Baker Street and edged slowly towards the corner with his vodka. Not whiskey tonight – a neutral smell. “didn’t I see you here last night?” he asked the pale faced girl, knowing full well he did. She slowly looked up at him, black eyes shining through a raven fringe, but said nothing. How old was she? Nineteen? Twenty? Certainly no older than twenty three at most. So much despair in one so young, Kal was in for a rare treat tonight.
A single tear started to form in her eye as the sax solo strummed her heart, and Kal chose his next moment.
“Such a beautiful song, but so sad. One of my favourites.”
No response.
“The trouble with music today is its all drum beats and samples. There are no great saxophone numbers anymore.” That worked, an ironic smile twitched on the side of her face. She drained the sweet tasting potion of twilight dreams, and slammed the glass down with a sob.
“Was he a sax player?” Kal ventured. Mission accomplished, the pale faced beauty broke down.
Kal wrapped a protective arm around her, and let her bury her head in his chest.
“There now.” He whispered softly, “Let it all out.” Rocking her gently and stroking her head, he knew he had her now.
As if on cue to make it easier, a quarrel broke out in the middle of the room, as to who would be taking Raucous Flirt in the alley first.
“This is no place for a girl like you” Kal said, “I’ve got my car outside, I’ll take you home.” Trusting him completely, the young girl stood up and let him lead her to the door.
It was cold outside, and as she shuddered, Kal draped his leather coat around her pale shoulders and led her away into the darkness. The prey had been caught.
It was barely twenty minutes later when Ravyn staggered back into the pub, barely able to stand. She just managed to make it to her customary corner before she swooned, still giddy from her feed, a trickle of blood dripping from her lips. The regulars all stared at her in silence.
“You had him all to yourself, didn’t you – you greedy tart?” said a remarkably sober Blonde Panda.
“Didn’t you leave us any?” whined Raucous flirt. Ravyn just turned her pale face up to them and grinned.
“You could at least wipe the blood off your chin.” Laughed Clooty, as the coterie set up the scene for their next meal.
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