She sensed him the moment she stepped into the park. She could taste him in the air, a flavour rich in bitterness and fury, a darkness so pure she almost shuddered with excitement.
Without slowing her pace she reached out with her mind, scouring the night for the mortal whose soul cried out with such raw evil. She found him easily, just a short distance ahead of her.
He was waiting for her.
She smiled as she explored his mind, tasted his desires, saw what he intended to do to her, what he had done to so many women before her. He was an artist. A cruel, barbaric artist, and his medium was pain and death.
And she was to be his latest masterpiece.
She was almost sorry that she couldn't play the part he had in mind for her, but she knew he was incapable of killing her. Over the centuries, the millennia, many had tried to take her life. Often she'd let them try, embracing the pain, savouring the moment of darkness that followed, but all too quickly her death-wounds healed and life returned to her body.
Only through the countless lives she'd taken had she ever really experienced death, and even then it was a mere glimpse into the abyss as she absorbed the souls of her victims.
Just as she would take the dark soul that waited for her on the path ahead.
Not right away, though.
He deserved to enjoy his art once more, to experience the fulfilment of simultaneous creation and destruction one last time.
She would play the part of his helpless victim. She would give him exactly what he wanted. Only when he was done would she show him her true face, and then it would be his turn to satisfy her.
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