FicWad

She is the ideal woman. Beautiful, intelligent, talented. Sweet, but with a hint of darkness surrounding her. Long red hair, silver eyes, pale skin. Delicate features. Obviously a loner. She's standing all alone at the bar. The patrons near her glance at her uneasily. She is not normal. A power seems to radiate from her. Rolling off of her fragile form. Why exactly will no one get within reach? Close enough to touch, close enough to whisper in her ear. Is it her skin? Is she too pale? Or is she too cold? Is it her frigid touch that frightens them? Maybe it's her eyes. Can they see the moon in her eyes? Are her teeth too sharp? Maybe her smell. The stench of the grave that clings to her clothes.
A man makes his way up to the bar. "Straight whiskey." he says to the bartender. The old man nods. The man sits down on a barstool. He notices the pale young woman next to him. He feels her power, but he is not one to turn down a chance to have a little fun. "Hi, there. You look a little lonely. Want some company?"
She turns slowly. "That depends",she smiles "who is this company?"
"The name is Jack. Jack Ingall." he replies, returning her smile. The woman holds out her hand. "I'm Deanna." Jack shakes her icy hand, noticing how cold it is. It seems out of place on a steamy summer night, but he ignores it. The old bartender places his whiskey on the counter in front of him.
The evening passes by rather quickly, and soon after eleven, Deanna checks her watch. "Oh", she says, getting up, "I should start heading home. I had a nice time, Jack. Thank you for the...company..." said, smiling a half smile. "I'll just go call a cab..."
"I can give you a ride home, if you'd like." Jack says, not wanting to let a catch like this get away quite so easily. Deanna pauses, thinking it over. "Alright. I hope it's not too far out of your way...I live in Monroeville." Jack smiles "No problem."
Jack pays the tab and they are on their way.
The rain pounds on the roof of Jack's pickup as they drive down the dark country lane. Jack is getting uneasy, but he ignores the feeling in his stomach and stops the car. Deanna looks confused. "What are you doing?" she asks. "Resting", he replies, unbuckling his seatbelt. He looks at her with lust in his eyes. "You wanna have some fun sweetheart?"
Deanna stiffens, and unbuckles herself. "No, thank you." she says.
She opens the door and scrambles out. "You can let me out here, I'll find my own way back." He gets out the other side. "Come on baby, we were having such a nice time. Don't spoil it."
He rushes at Deanna and tackles her, pinning her down by her arms. He lets go of one arm and starts undoing his belt. Deanna smiles viciously and says in a voice that is not her own. "I'd have let you go, if you'd driven away." She shoves him off and gets up. Grabbing Jack by his throat, she hoists him into the air and slams him against his truck. He cracks his head on the open door. He is scratching at her hand, his eyes rolling back into his head.
She throws him to the ground, and kneels down beside him. "How come all the nice boys are really pigs?" she asks him. Deanna lowers her face to his neck. Biting into his skin, an unearthly sound escapes her throat, low ,gutteral, escalating in pitch and volume until it becomes a shrieking howl and she rips upward, tearing out his throat.
Once she is finished with her meal, she wipes her mouth on a dead flower, retreating into the night and leaving Jack Ingall's corpse beside his truck.