Chapter 1
Chapter 1
In Seattle, it rains nine months of the year, or so they say. It seems that way when you live here. The frequent rain spells encourage people to take advantage of good weather when it finally arrives. A fact that is all too clear when hordes of people flood the streets coming out from their various hiding places as the sun finally breaks through the clouds. In the Emerald City, you never know when the weather will cooperate.
Few people know why Seattle was named after a story about munchkins and a wicked witch. To be named after a legendary tale such as the Wizard of Oz almost gives the city a magical impression. Seattle’s resemblance to the city of OZ might be due to the numerous evergreens that glow a brilliant green on a bright sunny day. At times it is a magnificent region in which to live, especially in summer.
Tonight is not so beautiful though it is mid-May and a typical Northwest late night. The dark cloudy sky lurks above as street lights illuminate the trace amounts of drizzle that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.
From the hilltop street in front of Bill’s Bar and Grill, you can see the brilliant, almost mysterious luminescence of the lights of the city only a short distance away. The Space Needle stands tall and proud in clear view of the bar, a remnant from the 1962 World’s Fair. One of the L’s in Bill’s neon sign went out last fall, and Bill has shown no indication of fixing it. Bill doesn’t seem to care too much about the fact that his bar is falling into disrepair, or perhaps he does not have the cash to repair it.
The sign is not the only evidence the establishment has seen better times. The old, bare, wood siding does not look like it has seen new paint in ages. Although it gives the bar a rundown look, it also gives it some rustic personality. Most patrons like the rough rural appearance of this old tavern that acts as a quick retreat, as if it were somewhere deep in the country despite its suburb location.
Inside you will see the typical setting that you find in most pubs. Several flat screen TVs hang from key locations on the old walls, while a pungent odor of aged cedar fills the air. It is impossible not to notice the pool tables that sit in the far corner, guarded by a few electronic dart boards.
Bill’s is dimly lit, mostly because Bill changed all the overhead lights to the lowest wattage he could find, he thought it might save on his electric bill. Red glass shaded pendant lights hang from the ceiling and dangle in each of the sitting booths.
The glow is offering just enough light to provide a cozy place to have an intimate conversation with someone who might be sitting across the table in the back to back bench style seating. It is getting late, and only three people remain in the bar. Tom is one of them. He is the bartender, Bill’s son-in-law. Tom is in his early 40s and has a large belly draped with a dirty apron.
He started to gray early in life, and his salt and pepper, slicked back hair attest to that fact. The barkeep hasn’t shaved in two days, and his stubble stands out on his light skin. Surprisingly enough he did not know how to make many drinks when he got the job. Everyone who knows him figured out he only got the job because of nepotism. He works hard, however, and is now getting much better at making drinks after two years of employment. His favorite drink to make is a Shirley Temple, which he finds a little embarrassing because it is not a manly drink.
A lone man in a dark brown hooded jacket, sits in one of the faintly lit booths with his hood down. He faces the bar with a glass in his hand that only has ice left in it. He peers up from time to time, and what distinguishes this shadowy figure from others is the fact that his eyes seem to glow in the dim gloom of the booth.
A striking, beautiful young woman with light brown hair and golden highlights is at the bar. She is wearing a dark, long jacket that would hang just above the floor if she were standing. Tom has tried on several occasions to strike up a conversation with her, but she isn’t much for talking, so he leaves her to her full glass. A suitor had bought her the drink several hours before, but she still has not taken more than a sip from it as far as Tom can tell. She talked to the young, handsome man who bought it for her for about thirty minutes, but he had left an hour ago, disappointed.
Although she is a regular, she never does seem to drink much, so Tom sometimes wonders why she even comes in the first place. He does not mind though. Bartenders usually like having someone as attractive as her in his bar. She draws a crowd and men buy her drinks often.
The flat screen TV directly over the bar gives anyone sitting in the stools a great view of whatever game or broadcast that might be on. At this time of night, Tom prefers the news. The broadcaster is reporting on a local rapist who is terrorizing the city, and police seem to be clueless having no suspects.
Tom cleans glasses and gets the bar ready to close. He is halfway listening to the broadcast when he glances over and notices the attractive woman staring at her glass in deep contemplation. With as much time as he has spent in the bar, he can tell when someone is thirsty. He is a little confused because she looks thirsty, but appears to have little interest in her drink.
“Roslyn, is everything ok?” Tom asks, half expecting she will probably not respond.
She surprises him with a brief reply, “Yes, Tom, thank you.” She flashes her dazzling smile in his direction.
It has been a long time since a woman that beautiful has smiled at him. He can not deny the fact it makes him feel warm inside. He can not help the feeling that he has inside, despite the fact he would never cheat on his wife and never has, even though he has had several opportunities.
“Can I call a cab for you?” he asks still a little shocked she answered, but encouraged at the same time.
“No thank you,” she says in her sweet, tender, soft voice.
She almost looks like an angel sitting there, Tom thinks.
Her fair skin seems almost to be glowing.
“Are you sure? It’s not safe these days,” Tom insists.
“Yes, I’m sure. You’re very thoughtful.” She looks up from her glass with a smile that is so beautiful it nearly takes Tom’s breath away. “I’ll be fine. I do have to go now.” She begins gathering herself.
“Have a great night, and thanks for coming in.” Tom sheepishly waves with his towel still in his hand.
She half grins again and stands up from the bar, leaving her drink nearly untouched, and gracefully walks to the door opening it. After a short step, she pauses, looks up, notices the drizzle still dancing in the orange glow of the bright streetlights. She pulls her hood over her head and proceeds out the door. The lone man, as if awakened from a stupor, suddenly and without a word walks to the bar, pays his bill in cash, and hurries out the door also pulling his hood over his head.
Roslyn heads down the hill in the direction of the city. The world’s fair with its brilliant lights fill the night sky with a faint mystical aura over the city. When Roslyn reaches the street corner, she stops and casually hits the crosswalk button with her fist and waits, turning her body slightly.
The movement is enough that she notices the man in the hood from the bar coming the same way she has. He is still a few hundred feet behind and walking unceremoniously towards the street corner where she is currently standing. The light changes and the well-recognized and slightly annoying audible signal to walk chirps, piercing the silence, letting anyone in the area know it is safe to cross the road.
Slightly startled, Roslyn quickly begins to cross the street trying to avoid the urge to look over her shoulder at the man who is getting closer. Once across the road, she notices the “walk” sign changes to “don’t walk” and the man is still on the other side of the street. She lets out a sigh of relief as she notices he is not crossing after her and continues her path towards downtown. The man’s now walking parallel with her on the other side of the street, peering from under his dark hood in her direction from time to time.
Roslyn increases her speed, trying to put some distance between her and the ominous man, but with each increase in her pace, he matches his pace to hers. She notices a sign up ahead that reads “Green Lake Park.” The sign also has a map of the lake. The warning on the sign jumps out at her, “Stay on the Path.” She can not help but think that this is good advice, she knows the park well and enters quickly in the hopes of eluding her sinister pursuer.
She glances behind her, noticing the shadowy figure of the man crossing the street towards the park and her. A startle reflex prompts her to run! She rationalizes the park has many dark walkways that are familiar to her and perfect for her escape.
From the entrance of the park, even in the dark, she can vaguely make out the wandering dark asphalt pathways encircling the small lake. The only real light in the area on a night like this comes from the streetlights bordering the beautifully manicured park. The eerie shadows of the rows of park trees jostle hauntingly.
Roslyn begins to have second thoughts. It might have been the worst place to go because she has heard there are lots of assaults that occur in the parks at night. Her loud, hard-soled shoes pound the asphalt track making her sound like a team of horses galloping as she speeds down the path, not bothering to look over her shoulder again.
She darts behind a large hedge and peers from the shadows, scanning for her stalker. Moments seem like hours as she impatiently waits for him to pass by but there is no trace of the shady man to be seen. After a couple of minutes, she creeps out from behind the hedge and gingerly begins to walk back the way she had come, looking over her shoulder as she does.
She pulls out an old, gold locket from around her neck and kisses it, a habit that she has gotten into since the man she loved gave it to her. It has always given her strength in stressful situations. She unconsciously releases the locket when a sudden noise comes from a nearby wood dock, causing her to jump. In the dim light, the dock appears to hover on the dark water. The locket dangles freely from her neck. Her nerves settle a little when she realizes it is only a tabby cat when it races past her, obviously more scared than she is. Clutching her chest, she continues again on her way.
“Where’re you going?” A deep man’s voice emanates from the shadows.
She jumps again and looks in the direction of the voice, but sees no one. She seems paralyzed with fear because she does not answer immediately.
“Where’re you going?” the voice asks again, this time more aggressively.
“What do you want?” her voice trembles.
“I just want to know where you’re going,” the voice has an eerie tone.
A male leaves the shadows, slowly and cautiously like a giant spider moving in on a fly. The gloom of the street lights reveals it is the male from the bar. He is tall with slender shoulders and big hands that almost seem to slowly reach for her like the legs of a large arachnid. His light blue eyes appear to almost glow from his sunken narrow face as they linger under his dark hood. He has faded grey jeans and black, lace-up boots that give the impression that he might be ex-military.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” she replies, stepping away from him.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he says sharply.
“Leave me alone.” She begins to back away but does not take her eyes off him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He quickly pursues her, reaching out for her again with his spider-like hands.
She starts to run but is quickly stopped in her tracks when he grabs her shoulder from behind and turns her back around. Although he is slender, he is much larger than she is.
“I said leave me alone!” she yells.
He smirks with a light in his eyes that looks like dancing fire. “I don’t think so, beautiful,” his voice has a terrifying cackle.
Out of impulse and with a sudden burst of courage, she kicks him in the groin, causing the tall, sinister man to double over and fall to the ground with a painful groan. She stands above him triumphantly.
Suddenly, she regains her senses and is aware of the impending danger, so she bolts for the park entrance. The man looks up from the ground, still clutching his throbbing groin. He forces himself onto his feet despite the crippling pain. He hobbles after her and strains to a full sprint, fearing her escape. She can see the glow of the street lights ahead of her; freedom is near! She is almost out of the park when he grabs a handful of her hair; he has a hold of his fly. Her head whips back with violent force. Off balance, she turns to fight when he grabs her by the throat and pushes her up against a large tree.
“Please, stop!” she pleads despite the firm grip on her throat.
He cackles and rips opened her long overcoat with his free hand. As he begins to look her over he can not help but notice the old gold locket hanging just above her cleavage. He shows little interest in it; he has what he really wants. He can feel her firm, cool skin under his large hand which clutches her throat. He reaches down to the bottom of her skirt and violently pulls it up to her waist, she feebly kicks and struggles. Both her hands work frantically on his slender hand to free herself from the death grip now pinching off most of her air supply.
“Please . . . stop!” she pleads.
He notices her brilliant, blue eyes sparkling from the distant glow of the street lights like a couple of deep blue sapphires; they have a gem-like quality. He notices the unusual facets in the color of her eyes. It is something he has never seen before. The unusual appearance is very stunning. Her beauty only seems to encourage him.
He viciously rips her panties off and starts to unbuckle his pants. “You girls make it too easy. What were you thinking coming into the park at night,” he sneers.
He pulls out his male member and moves into position when she starts to laugh, her gem-like eyes twinkling sharply.
Shocked by her unusual behavior, he stops short of this goal. “What’s so funny,” he demands, squeezing her throat even tighter.
“Besides the fact you have the smallest penis I’ve ever seen?” she says boldly.
Curiosity changes to rage as his eyes fill with hate. “I was going to have a little fun with you. Now when I’m finished with you,” his eyes harden, “I’m going to kill you, bitch!” The fire in his eyes burns brighter than ever.
She only laughs louder, which only enrages him further.
“You’re dead, bitch!” he yells.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through the man’s hand like a bolt of lightning. The pain is so intense it instantly brings the black-hearted man to his knees. His hand once wrapped around the woman’s throat is now clutched tightly in her small, solid hand. She is crushing the bones in his hand merely by squeezing it with hers.
“What the fuck?” he screams in tremendous pain and complete disbelief.
He watches as in the dim light; her eyes change from a brilliant blue to a ruby red! Her canine teeth protrude from her striking red lips like short daggers.
“What the hell are you?” he yells in absolute horror.
“Evildoers always taste better,” she says in a powerful, terrifying voice as she attacks him.
She bites him on the neck and quickly drains his blood. His face turns to a sickly white as the life drains from his body. His eyes turn filmy, and his once strong body goes limp. In little time, the dark, dreadful man is no more.
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