In Search Of Eve

The bar I found myself in tonight was no different from any other. These dimly lit, smoke-filled havens attracted the same kind of patrons regardless of age, city, or era. The musky aroma of overworked barmaids mingled with the scent of unwashed clientele, creating a pungent cocktail that lingered in the air. Over time, this smell would be overpowered by the stale, yeasty odor of spilled beer and the faint, salty whiff of crushed peanuts. The taste of man’s earliest attempts at fermentation, those rough, unrefined wines, had given way to the robust, mature flavors of aged whiskey and sophisticated spirits. Yet, despite the evolution of drinks and the passage of time, the company remained ever constant. The underpaid drunkard, perpetually grumbling about his tyrannical boss; the heartbroken lover, drowning her sorrows one glass at a time; and the weary divorcee, seeking validation and solace in pint after pint of liquid courage.

That’s why, when a different kind of patron entered this little bar tonight, I took notice immediately. This individual was unlike the usual clientele. While most people who walked through these doors carried an air of desperation or some form of palpable negative emotion, this person did not. In fact, there was an eerie absence of emotion. Instead, a chill ran down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I knew instinctively that something unusual had just walked into the bar. I took a slow, deliberate sip of my whiskey, my eyes discreetly following the newcomer’s every move. He made his way to the less populated end of the bar and ordered a beer, his presence unsettling and out of place.

He sat there, staring intently at his beer as if trying to decipher some hidden message within its amber depths. He didn’t even seem interested in drinking it. Instead, he swiveled on his stool and lit a cigarette, the flare of the lighter casting brief, flickering shadows across his face. He surveyed the room with a calculating gaze, and I quickly averted my eyes, pretending to be engrossed in my drink. Beneath my trench coat, my hand instinctively searched for a weapon. Off duty tonight, I couldn’t recall if I was armed. A quick check revealed only my wallet, house keys, and cell phone. I cursed softly under my breath. If anything were to happen, I would have to rely on my wits and fists to get through it.

The stranger lifted the beer bottle to his lips, but his Adam’s apple didn’t move—a telling sign that confirmed my suspicions. He placed the bottle back on the counter and approached a solitary girl, who was delicately nursing a glass of wine. With a predator’s grace, he leaned in close before she could react, gently grasping her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes. Her grip on the wine glass slackened, and her expression became vacant, her eyes glassy and unblinking. It was as if she had slipped into a trance. He whispered something to her, his lips barely moving, and she responded with a slow, mechanical nod, as if under a spell.

The stranger led her out of the bar, his hand resting lightly on her back as they slipped through the exit. My gut twisted. I threw some money onto the table, barely noticing the bills as I bolted after them. The door swung shut behind me with a dull thud, and the cold night air hit my face like a warning.

I followed at a distance, careful not to draw attention. They moved quickly down the street, the girl stumbling slightly, her movements sluggish. They turned into a narrow alleyway, the shadows swallowing them whole. My heart pounded as I rounded the corner, my breath caught in my throat.

But they were gone.

The alley was empty, save for a few drops of blood scattered across the filthy pavement. I crouched down, staring at the dark stains, the bitter taste of failure rising in my throat. I didn’t need to search for her. I knew what had happened.

She was dead.

I ran a hand through my hair, cursing under my breath. I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve acted when I had the chance. But I didn’t. Now all I could do was wait for her body to turn up in some forgotten corner of the city, another victim in a long line of tragedies.

I headed back to the bar, the familiar weight of guilt settling on my shoulders. The dim lights and dull hum of conversation felt distant now, like a world I didn’t belong to anymore. I knew what that creature was, what it had taken from her. And I knew it wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The morning would bring news of her death. But by then, it would be too late.

The police station was a mix of bustling energy and worn-down fatigue, like a machine that had been running too long without oil. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare on the rows of desks cluttered with paperwork, radios, and half-drunk cups of coffee. Officers moved in and out, some with eyes bloodshot from long shifts, others with the steely focus that came with years on the job. In the corner, a couple of rookies were struggling with a mountain of forms, while across the room, a detective I vaguely recognized was lecturing a perp slumped in a chair.

I walked through the chaos, feeling the familiar weight of the place settle over me, though my thoughts were far from routine. The memory of the alley, the blood-streaked pavement, gnawed at me like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I should’ve done more, acted quicker. I knew the girl was dead before I even saw the blood.

But that’s the thing with being who I am—or what I am. You learn that some things are just out of your hands.

“Adam!” Joey’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced over to see him leaning against a desk, one arm waving me over. Joey was a good guy, one of the few on the force who didn’t ask too many questions. He was sharp, though—too sharp sometimes.

I approached, nodding as I slung my coat over the back of a chair. “What’s up?”

Joey crossed his arms, eyeing me with a grin that said he knew something was off. “What were you up to last night? You slipped out of here fast after your shift.”

I hesitated, the truth sitting on the edge of my tongue. I could’ve told him about the girl. The alley. The creature I knew too well. But instead, I sighed and leaned back in the chair.

“Not much,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Ended up going for a drink, just needed to clear my head, you know?”

Joey’s eyebrow rose. “A drink? You? Man, I thought you’d be thinking about Mardi Gras like the rest of the city.”

I gave a half-hearted shrug, forcing a smirk. “Yeah, well, everyone else can party. I wasn’t really in the mood. Just one of those nights.”

Joey chuckled, shaking his head. “Must’ve been some night for you. The city’s gearing up for a madhouse, you know that. We’ve got extra patrols lined up, barricades are going up... should be wild.”

“Good to hear everything’s under control,” I replied, though my mind was still on last night. On the girl who had been led away by that creature.

Joey’s expression softened as he studied me for a moment. He was good at reading people. “You sure you’re alright, man? You seem a little... off.”

I met his gaze, debating how much to say. But how could I explain? That I’d seen a predator walk out of the bar with a girl, and I knew, without a doubt, that she was already dead? That would only raise more questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a grin. “Just tired. It’s nothing.”

Before Joey could press further, the crackle of the radio on his desk interrupted us. The dispatcher’s voice came through, sharp and clear.

“All units, we’ve got a body found near Philips and Duvalier. Caucasian female. Looks like an animal attack. Details are scarce.”

My blood ran cold. I didn’t need to hear the details to know who they had found. I clenched my jaw, feeling the weight of inevitability settle over me. The girl was dead, just like I’d known she would be.

Joey’s easygoing expression faded, replaced by the steely focus he wore when things got serious. “Sounds like we’ve got work to do,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice low. “Let’s go.”

I followed him out, the hum of the station fading behind me. Whatever was waiting for us at the scene, I already knew the story. I’d seen it play out too many times before.