Early morning shadows hid the fallen angel in the trees that grew beside the picnic tables. There was a still a chill in the air. She drew her majestic black wings around her for warmth. Her throat felt parched. It had been weeks since she had last fed; months since she had last enjoyed some warm, viscous human blood.
Killing a mortal was always high risk. Hunger and desire had caused her to be careless last time. She should’ve taken time to carry the body off instead of discarding it in the dried leaves on the pavement.
She’d heard the shrill shrieks of the dog walker who had discovered the man’s body not long after she had abandoned it. Damn dog!
Well, she’d taken care of it a week or so later. Dog owners were sloppy. The angel had watched, biding her time, until the chocolate brown Labrador was off its lead, running ahead of its slow middle aged owner. The dog’s death had been swift. It had barely whimpered as she had bitten deep into its jugular vein. By the time the owner had caught up, the angel had drained every last drop from the beloved family pet and swooped up into the trees out of sight. She had laughed at the woman’s wails of grief for the dead canine lying on the pavement.
Her attention was brought back to the present as she watched the woman cross the road, heading towards her. The angel had been studying her early morning routine for a few weeks, working out where and when to strike. The woman’s erratic fitness regime had frustrated her. Never the same day two weeks in a row; never the same number of outing s a week; always the same time to within a minute or two. Close surveillance had warned the angel of the routine of others who walked and ran along that section of road so early in the morning.
There was one obvious window of opportunity. It came when the woman finished her run. When she returned to the small secluded picnic spot, she sat down at one of the tables to catch her breath for a moment or two before tackling the steep hill back to her home. She only took a seat though if the sun was shining.
Hunger was forcing the angel to take a dangerous but calculated risk by stepping out into the direct sunlight. For the sake of savouring the sweet ferrous female blood, she was prepared to risk singeing her precious wings. There were only so many rabbits and sheep and deer that she could stomach. Her recent starvation diet had left her feeling desiccated; feeling unfeminine. It was this fact that had decided her that she needed to feast on female hormone filled blood on this occasion.
Calmly, she waited in the shadows for her prey to return. Patiently, she counted the dog walkers, ensuring they all passed her oblivious to her presence. The other two regular early morning joggers also passed, heading out towards the lighthouse
The minutes ticked steadily by.
Silently, she watched the woman approach. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her cheeks were scarlet, reddened by the effort, and she was breathing heavily. The angel’s nostrils twitched as she tasted the hormone soaked blood in the air around her.
Just as she had hoped, the worn out woman took a seat at the end of the bench in the sun, gasping for air.
Spreading her wings, ready to swoop, the angel suddenly froze to the spot.
The air was filled with a familiar ferrous infused male musk. A scent she had only dreamed about over recent weeks. A perfume that she hadn’t lusted after since her last human meal.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Rhythmic light footsteps were approaching rapidly. He was still a hundred meters or more away. Already her sensitive ears could hear that infernal music that he listened to.
Faced with a choice, she hesitated. Male or female? Decisions. Decisions….
Hearing the footsteps, the woman scrambled to her feet and darted across the road out of sight before he reached the picnic area.
Silently, seething with hungry frustration, the dark angel watched as he ran by. Oh how she yearned to sink her fangs into his veins. He was a meal to be lingered over and savoured, not a dinner to be rushed through greed. Like a fine wine, his blood would be sipped until she felt intoxicated by it.
With a soft sigh that could easily have been mistaken for the breeze wafting through the leaves, the angel drew her purple tipped wings around her once more and settled in the shadows to wait for her next opportunity to dine.
image sourced via Google- credits to the owner