Chapter 2: Prey

    More than two weeks had passed since Denver, and Alex found himself in a new town, on a new hunt. He didn't know how he always found the right person, but he knew enough by now to trust his instincts when it came to knowing who needed killing. Sometimes when he found them, it was hard to see the monster hiding within. Sometimes, it really wasn't. Some people just couldn't hide who they were. 

    He was one of the lucky ones who could. 

    That said, as he walked down the sidewalk in the industrial area of Tuscan, stalking his next victim, he felt on edge. It was only something he ever felt when he was sure he was being scrutinized by unwelcome eyes. 

    Every once in a while an unusually observant person would read his body language at the right time, and he always felt it when it happened. He'd be forced to back off, and pick up the trail later...but he never let a hunt go unfinished. He never let a known evil escape him. 

    He had the sense someone was following him, even if there were no sounds to corroborate that inclination. Still, it put him on his guard, and he decided to let Tyler Wilkes live another night. He didn't deserve the reprieve, but Alex knew better than to ignore what he was feeling. He'd find the scumbag again, and soon. 

    While he let himself lose track of the other man's movements ahead of him, he continued on his way without breaking stride, as though he'd been headed this way for another reason. He meandered along deeper into downtown, and found a convenience store up ahead. Venturing inside, he nodded to acknowledge the greeting of the clerk behind the counter and moved along to the back. He grabbed a drink and a snack he didn't want or need, and went through the transaction like anyone else.

    All the while, he couldn't shake that feeling. He hadn't just been watched, he understood now. He was being stalked. Hunted. 

    Varying scenarios ran through his head as he carried his purchases back outside, but he didn't give any of them much thought. The reason why didn't matter, really. It would end one of two ways, no matter the cause. 

    If someone had figured him out and wanted revenge for a lost loved one, they'd either be killed or knocked out and left behind as he disappeared. It all depended on who they were. Just because they'd cared about someone who'd been a monster didn't always make them one by association. If someone was trying to mug him because they thought he looked like easy prey, they'd be dealt with just the same. 

    He'd just about made it back to his Indian, the food and drink long gone by then, when the ever-present feeling of being tracked just vanished. It was so abrupt, he stopped and turned around in a full circle, sharp eyes taking in all the night's surroundings. He could've sworn he'd felt it...disappear. Vanish. Retreat, maybe. 

    Jaw clenched a bit, he put on his helmet and fired up the engine. He'd take the long way back to his new motel room. 

    Alex locked the door behind him and put the small chain in place, flicking on the light as he made his way to the end of the bed. Before he could pull off his shoes, he realized too late that he'd walked right into a trap. He felt the presence of another person before he'd even noticed them, and his head reeled as he tried to make sense of how they'd gotten inside when he looked up to see a man he didn't know sitting at the small table near the window. 

    He'd walked right by him.

    His gun was drawn and he was on his feet in an instant, leveling the barrel at the stranger's tense face. "Who the f**k are you?" he asked, keeping his voice low. No need to alert his neighbors. 

    The man stared up at him with unblinking eyes. "You need to be ready, Alexander," he said. 

    It was as he spoke that Alex noticed the blood. How he'd missed it was anyone's guess. It spilled from the man's chest, where a deep, ragged wound had been torn across the ribs and sternum. He couldn't see bone, though he thought he should have been able to. The wound was deep, and dark. Instead of flesh and bone, the man seemed to be filled with a black void behind all the blood. How the hell he was sitting up was beyond him. He should've been dead, as much blood as there was pooled on the floor beneath the table and chairs. 

    "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, still holding his gun level at the man's face.

    The sharp, acrid scent of smoke reached his nose, and the man before him continued to ooze blood. He looked like he should've been sweating bullets as tensed up as he was, from his legs and up to his face. He was shaking, but there was an almost vicious intensity in his eyes that told Alex he might've been dying, but he wasn't going to go before he'd done what he needed to do. 

    Suddenly, Alex was pulled closer until he was inches away from the bleeding man, bent forward so he should've been able to feel his breath on his face. But as he was held there by some invisible force, he couldn't feel anything coming from the man right in front of him. He couldn't even smell the blood his hand had slid through on the table's surface. He felt as though someone had him by the neck, holding him there in the dying man's face, but there was nothing touching him. The gun was ripped from his hand, and the heavy thud as it hit the floor sounded a little wet. 

    "You need to be ready, Alexander," the man repeated more intently, pale eyes boring into his. "When the devil comes, it'll appear all in black, and you'll feel the heat of its eyes before you even know it's found you."

    "What?" was all he could say, in pure disbelief. 

    "The devil lies, and seduces, and as soon as it knows what you want, you're in the devil's grip forever," the man went on, as though he hadn't heard him. "Don't give in, Alexander. Kill the unholy demon, and you'll be rewarded in our kingdom. Strike down the wicked -" 

    His words cut off in a horrible choking gasp, and he tossed his head back in agony, right before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. 

    Alex was released from whatever had had a hold on him, and he fell back against the side of the bed. His chest was heaving as he stared at the vanishing wisp of smoke above the table, the only remaining evidence of what had just happened. The blood was gone. Like it hadn't just been pooling in the carpet and dripping from the table's surface. He looked down at his hand, finding no trace of it there, either. It should've been covered in red.

    "What the f**k?" he breathed, staring at the space where the man had just been sitting. 

    He pushed his wet hair back from his eyes and swiped at the foggy mirror. Looking deep into his own reflection, he tried to find any sign of insanity. Anything that would give him the inclination he wasn't altogether there. Because as much as he wanted to believe he'd imagined the whole thing, he really didn't think he had. 

    It wasn't the first time he'd questioned his own sanity. In the fifteen or so years of hunting down killers and predators, he'd often wondered how he always managed to find the right one. People didn't just have instincts like that, or detectives would have a much higher rate of success in closing their cases. Somehow, he always just knew. More a feeling than a conscious thought, really. When he stood near a person who was guilty of something heinous, he could feel it in his core...like the rot of their sins was leeching out and burning into his veins. 

    Reality told him it wasn't possible, but he was always proven right when he looked into the person's life. When he followed them undetected for days or weeks, whatever it took, to find proof of what his instincts told him...he was always right. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't just all in his head. Because reality couldn't, shouldn't, work that way. 

    Not finding anything obvious in his face that told him he was in fact crazy, he toweled off and pulled on his boxers. He didn't think sleep would find him easily, but for the first time in his life he didn't feel confident enough in his own abilities to be out in the open that night. If what he'd seen and heard and felt had been at all real, he'd walked right into it, like one of his own victims. 

    He'd been the predator for so long, being made the prey had shaken him a bit. 

    The sensation of heat in his shoulder had him rubbing at it, and he frowned down at the persistent little crescent shape scarring his skin. He didn't usually end up with a scar from something so minor. 

    He thought of the girl, Lucy, and the depths of her dark eyes. He could've used her company tonight more than he'd needed it back in Denver, and not just because of the distraction. She'd been so warm, so comfortable...so safe. It had been an illusion, but damn…right now, it was an illusion he would have fallen into, gladly. 

    The heat melted away, and he climbed into the bed, keeping his eyes on the table in the dark all night. 

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

I never knew there was a motorcycle named "Indian." This sheds a little more light on Alex. He's a connoisseur of sorts and cares about motorcycles, maybe caring a bit more about his motorcycle than the people affected by his life of killing.

The scene with the bloody mystery man was well done, scary, full of detail but not too much detail. I could feel his fear. And his pronouncement left me very curious. What demon? What kingdom?

It's effective to have him have no idea what happened with that bite from Lucy. It makes me feel like I am one up on Alex, knowing more than he does, despite his incredible intuition.

And his incredible intuition is very interesting as well. He wonders about it, questions it, even questions his own sanity, but doesn't seem to have any imagined ideas about where the intuition comes from. That seems accurate for such a pragmatic man.

This was an interesting chapter, smooth and clear, no little nitpicks.

[MoonlitWillow]

Thank you for reading! I know you said blood and gore were really not something you enjoyed reading about, so I appreciate you continuing on to the second chapter.

Yes, I believe there was a rivalry between Indian and Harley back in the day. I don't know much of anything about motorcycles to be honest, but I think the Indian Dark Horse is a good-looking bike.

[SweetNutmeg]

Well, blood and gore don't really turn me off. A sympathetic killer is more what made me hesitate. It challenges my comfortable ideas.

Indian Dark Horse is a good name for Alex's motorcycle as well as being good looking. Alex is a dark horse if I ever met one.

[Zach Adams]

Very interesting, intense, and spooky! I wish it hadn't taken me so long to continue reading.

[wtp]

Interesting turn of events, as the hunter becomes the prey! Alex's newfound insecurities make him a more interesting character. It will be interesting to see who he chooses to trust going forward... himself? Lucy? No one?

I had expected Alex to show signs of being a vampire for Lucy's bite in this chapter. Not giving me the expected heightens the suspense and makes me wonder if me guesses about Lucy were correct. I also noticed that you were careful not to give the devil a gender. Will it turn out to be Lucy? She was dressed in black, but he has already met her and didn't notice her eyes.

Makes me want to read the next chapter!

[MoonlitWillow]

Thank you for reading! I'm glad you picked up on all the small things. You've got a good eye for detail.

Alex is going to have to deal with a lot of mental upheavals, trust being one of them, and being at the mercy of people stronger and more dangerous than him being another.

I'm glad you want to keep reading!