Monotony

[Clairice-Sarah]

"No, I don't think you understand." She took a sip of her coffee. "Those need to be delivered on Friday afternoon, and considering how much I paid for them, they better be placed nicely!" Kerri paused to look for traffic before stepping across the street. "...thank you, that's what I like to hear."

Winter here made her miss busy cities like New York and San Francisco. Bridgeport wasn't even warm! Especially now, after three long and beautiful weeks in Cancun by the beach. If she tried, she could blend in there too. She'd never spoken Spanish, but it couldn't be that much harder than French and Italian. Kerri resigned to keep it in mind. Six years in Bridgeport and she didn't know how much more she could take it.

And as much as she hated to expend the effort, the money from her last benefactor wouldn't last forever and this wasn't the place to find another. But Bridgeport was special. This boring, stained, ugly little city was a menagerie of entertaining little things. Every other Saturday she had wine with a vampire who ran a radio station and on more than one late night walk she watched a beast shed its human cosmetic and bite into something a little more substantial.

Fun to watch but nothing she wanted to be a part of.

There just wasn't any reason to kill something if it wasn't going to provide for you, for putting in all the effort.

She passed an older man smoking a cigarette and glanced to the side to give him a smile before turning the corner.

Some flurry had been in the news lately that a child had been eaten. Who did that? Children didn't have estates or attractive features about them, or even enough meat to really sustain anything for that long. Kerri tossed her hair over one shoulder; not everyone was so practical, and especially not humans - she'd lived with enough of them.

Stepping into the used book store, Kerri unbuttoned the top buttons of her coat - blue wool, something bought by her husband in 1938. Designed back when coats were made for winter - not one of those cheap, polyester-wool blend ones now. She flipped her sunglasses up onto her head and unwrapped her scarf as she browsed the aisles for an exciting title.

[scribblerrigby]

Aaron Fleischer stood outside the small shop, slightly hunched inside his long coat, one hand in his pocket, the other clenching the cigarette he’d been nursing for the past several minutes.

He had needed to get away from his office, away from the stifling, smoke-free environment, the cafeteria food, the invitations to speak at other colleges in the state; to contribute to the latest issue of something-or-other; the myriad requests for references and recommendations, because the student was bright, self-motivated and talented enough for that school...And so on. His break gave him the excuse to run down to the shops to grab some food, unwind, and observe. Dark, unreflective eyes framed by black glasses surveyed the pedestrians that milled about the streets with an intent, but aloof gaze. He took another long drag on the cigarette.

Bridgeport seemed so innocent in the daylight. Other than when the giant snake ate the child in broad daylight several days ago, anything really worth watching seemed to appear after dark: The vampire he had to kill the other night. Miss Utkin’s blood. The leech-monster, Sara. Himself.

They were infinitely more interesting than what he was watching right now. But humans had their uses, too. They all mixed together, after a while, into one giant, stale stench of the masses. He’d learned to tune it out, allow it to subside into the background. He preferred to study the nuances of their mannerisms, what made them work, and how they interacted with other people. He looked at everyone, and learned.

Today, he picked up the smells of endless bits and pieces of everyone’s lunches, hints of perfume, traces of marijuana from a group of truants to his left, the mild arousal tinging the embrace of a young couple reuniting on a street corner. Their smiles reached their eyes.

That was the part that had mystified him the most. Even when Eden was still around, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like, how she could invest so much emotion in another. He’d understood what had attracted her to him, and had used that, but the expected inner compulsions and feelings were unfamiliar to him. During intimate moments, he’d usually keep quiet, imitate what he’d seen in the movies and hope she’d move on to another subject, soon.

The couple walked down the street, arms around each others’ waists, and turned the corner out of sight. Nothing out of the ordinary. Another snapshot of the life of a largely dull small town.

Until the woman walked by.

He observed her, curiously. Dark eyes flicked over her from head to foot. She had long, striking red hair, sunglasses, and an expensive-looking wool coat. She moved confidently, very aware of her own beauty and how she was seen by others. But it wasn’t her appearance that had caught his attention.

Underneath the whiffs of expensive perfume and the faint tinge of wine, there was something else about her. Something wrong.

The woman turned briefly. They met eyes, and she smiled coyly. Aaron felt the chills prickling at the back of his neck and the sudden wrench in the pit of his stomach that told him that this woman was something unnatural, something to be avoided.

An invigorating challenge.

She turned and disappeared around the corner. He straightened up stiffly, mindful of old wounds, ran his hand through tousled, thinning brown hair, dropped the cigarette butt, and crushed the remains with his heel. He had a little over an hour until his next class, anyway.

Pacing himself, waiting just long enough to not appear to be following her, he discreetly tracked the suspicious woman to a nearby used bookstore. He entered, but was immediately spotted by one of his students.

"Hey, Doc!"

Noah Kaufman. One of the bright, self-motivated and talented, and an applicant to be his current TA. He had a dopey, excitable, trusting air about him. His long arms were wrapped around two used textbooks and piles of freshly-purchased Animorphs books.

Aaron wished he would go away.

His morning class had been demanding. He was tired. The last thing he wanted right now was to think of school. Where was that woman? Her smell was strong in here…The kid rambled on.

“Glad you showed up here. Can I talk to you for a minute or two? I’m having a few problems with the reading from class, today, and I was wondering…”

Aaron flicked open his wallet and handed an appropriate amount to the boy, masking his irritation with a smile.

“Not now, but do you have some time? Go on down to Caribou, pick up a couple cups, and I’ll join you before next class, all right?”

The professor’s mood was lost on Noah. The boy took the wad of bills and grinned, visibly relieved. “Well, great! Thanks, Doc!” He trotted away.

Aaron smiled,gave him a wave, and then turned back to the task at hand. He needed to find this woman, this monster. He needed to study, to observe, to enjoy the tantalizing gratification that human scientific ethics would otherwise deny him. He walked through the store, his casual browsing a cover for his hunt.

[Clairice-Sarah]

Kerri ignored the bells on the door, but stopped mid-aisle at "Doc!" Doctor? Doctors made good money, especially in this day and age. She held still with her fingers placed on the spine of a book to listen, but her face dropped a little when the boy asked about "class." Not that kind of doctor, that would be too easy...did professors make money? Probably.

But the conversation stopped and Kerri shrugged, craning her neck to find the man.

Any ticket out of Bridgeport...she wondered how Telfer was doing, she expected he'd be arrested by now. And with that thought, Kerri turned her attention back to the shelves. She should just move someplace else, California, or maybe Arizona...get out of here. Kerri pulled out the book and glanced over the back. Good enough...she wondered if the store had any Nietzche, it had been years since she read anything by him...

At the last second she smelled Malboro and looked up, almost walking into the man she passed outside. With a surprised "oh!" Kerri stepped back and replaced the smile from before.

"I'm sorry, I should have been paying attention." She looked to her coffee, to make sure it hadn't spilled, then back up at Aaron. A muscle under one eye twitched and for a moment Kerri held her breath, to still the impulse - why was a normal man setting her off? Not normal, perhaps? She tucked the book under her elbow.

"Do you frequent this book store often? I don't think I've seen you before." Kerri held out her hand. She paused a moment to choose a name, and decided to go with what she still had. "I'm Kerri."

[scribblerrigby]

Aaron started, feigning surprise, and fumbled around, uttering a tiny curse as the woman nearly walked into him.

“No, no it was my fault, I wasn’t looking.” He smiled apologetically, stuffing his hands into his pockets, noting how her brilliant red hair, fresh with floral shampoo, framed her pale face with those gray eyes and that bright lipstick on her full, red lips.

Her stare met his; his breath caught in his throat as once again her eerie, otherworldly side made itself known to him. The suspicious, wrong smell was here, lurking darkly beneath the expensive perfume, and this close to her, it was stronger than ever. A shiver crept from his neck down his spine. Every bone, every nerve, every feeling in his body was screaming at him to stay away from this creature.

Danger. Not at all human.

He noted her hesitation and her odd stare; his own wide eyes betrayed his interest and more than a hint of naked craving in his otherwise carefully composed face. Did she know? Did she know what he was, or his suspicions about what she was?

He couldn’t let that throw him, or let the unfamiliar apprehension he was feeling show in front of her. He couldn’t show any sort of weakness – he knew predators, after all. He had to make a good first impression.

He forced even-toned composure into his voice. “Not as much as I’m used to, I’m afraid. Work has made that impossible, lately,” he said, advancing. He took her outstretched hand firmly. “Aaron,” he replied. Enthralled. “Do you come here, often? What’s that you’ve picked out, if you don’t mind my asking?” he said, indicating her book.

[Clairice-Sarah]

On the inside, Kerri frowned, wondered why he wasn't falling over his feet to talk to her. She didn't think he was gay - he reacted a little, if the discomfort in his posture meant anything - so why not more?

"Pleased to meet you, Aaron." The twitching muscle in her eye started again for a moment when he took her hand, but Kerri smiled. Finally, a response.

"Oh, once a week," she responded with a small shrug of her shoulders, "Sometimes twice." Kerri stared straight up at him through her eyelashes, thanking him at the back of her mind for giving her the opportunity to ask what she wanted to know. "What kind of work do you do that you can't relax with a new book more often? I can't imagine how stressful that might be."

It was only a few moments later she dropped his hand, only to take the book and inspect the back cover once again. "Well it looks like some kind of romance," she said flippantly, "I know I haven't read it before. I think I'll grab two or three more, though. My favourites are at the back, where none of the-" What? Teens? She forgot, she didn't look that old here! "-kids look. Do you have any recommendations, Aaron?" She tucked the book under her arm once more, free hand moving the default of twirling hair around her fingers.

His syntax showed his age, but she guessed by the way he stressed his syllables and pauses that he was educated, too - this must be the one she heard speaking, before. Educated people made more money. Educated, and busy...thinning hair, looked like he didn't sleep enough - probably late thirties, she'd guess. The next time she ran into him - she'd make a next time - Kerri resolved to up herself a couple of years and change her makeup slightly. But not too much; by the time men were close to mid-life they wanted to be young again.

Kerri knew how to make a man believe he could.

[scribblerrigby]

"Very stressful..." He met her stare. "I cultivate the minds of the best and brightest and shepherd them out on their robot march into the world to work under someone else and their ideas,” he said, aridly, then shrugged. “Or, putting it simply, I teach biology and do research at the college across town." He smiled, acerbic, but with a hint of a manic glint in his eye. "But it pays well - couldn't do the things I actually enjoy without it."

She dropped his hand and described her book. He blinked, at a loss for words. Why, this creature was flirting!

"Do I have any...I mean...what?" He walked right into that one, really. Damn.

That had thrown him. He fumbled for something to say, suddenly and acutely aware of her body language, the way she moved with impeccable leisure, and how she touched her hair, as well as his own slightly deeper breathing, the rhythms of his pulse, the way he reeked like the couple on the street.

Observations in an experiment. Nothing more.

“I…don’t…” She couldn’t be that much older than his daughter anyway, could she? He guessed he had a decade on her, at least.

A part of him just wanted to shut down completely and walk away – there’ll be other opportunities in a place like this, after all. A very small part. He swallowed, ignoring disturbing desires, calling upon his reserves of composure. He would not be toyed with. He would not play the repressed intellectual. He was after her, after all.

“I don’t. I’m sorry.” Stronger, now. Was she some sort of succubus, perhaps? He surveyed her with a lofty glance.

“By the way, though…” he added, suavely. “Interesting literature choice, for a demon.”

[Clairice-Sarah]

Her smile upturned a little more as he described his profession. "That sounds exhausting." One side of her mouth quirking more than the other as he stumbled, bringing a hand up to oh so politely cover her chuckle as he silenced.

"Oh, I didn't mean just novels like this, Aaron," she began, and leaned on the book case. "I'm pretty open to new things." Her eyes moved from his to his neck, only a moment before they flicked back up. "But maybe there aren't that many novels about biology." She thought about emphasizing the content of her book as some kind of biology, adding, "But my knowledge is--"

“Interesting literature choice, for a demon.”

Her jaw dropped at the accusation - the insult - and her eyes tinged yellow before her smile returned, this time covered in ice. "Demon?" she asked, stepping closer, "How rude. I'm not a demon. I do have manners after all." Kerri turned her chin upward, smirking; so he could tell? That explained the killing impulse. She tapped the novel on his chest.

"But I do try to keep things as interesting as possible, you wouldn't believe the things you learn."

She backed off from him and tossed her hair, sipped at her coffee and turned away. Kerri could come back tomorrow for another book...pending his response now, she needed to reorganize her tactics. In one way this cleared a few things - kept her from having to cover for her knowledge, or lack thereof. But...it also meant she was far less likely to get his money, far more likely to waste her time.

She ventured one glance over her shoulder as she moved down the aisle. "You seem like the kind of person not easily interested, Aaron."

[scribblerrigby]

Her eyes shifted yellow, confirming his suspicions, and he couldn’t help but smile hungrily, even as her demeanor turned frosty. He held to a tense silence, not daring to move, not daring to show any sort of weakness as she smirked and stepped closer. There was something attractive about her purely selfish, cold, vaguely menacing stance.

>"But I do try to keep things as interesting as possible, you wouldn't believe the things you learn."

She thrust the book into his chest and he began to protest. But then she turned away, and he cursed inwardly. That was the wrong approach.

She’s not a demon? Hm.

He could salvage this. He could find out what she was, if she could be of any use to him. He could get to know what was behind those mysterious, inhuman eyes. In the anatomical as well as figurative sense, of course.

He’ll try another approach, then. He found it had paid to start slowly, sometimes. He closed the distance between them, silently, placing a hand on her shoulder to halt her retreat.

“You’re wrong, Kerri,” he said pleasantly, though his eyes betrayed his eagerness. “I'm sorry if I've offended you, but I'm quite interested...We could discuss these sort of interesting things…over dinner, perhaps?”

[Clairice-Sarah]

His smile didn't leave, even with her attitude...grew, even. She didn't move with any haste at all; nothing any human man tried could hold her back. If he tried to call her on it, she had enough to back herself up or leave. If he pushed her the wrong way she'd snack on his heart. He touched her shoulder and she stopped, glancing back from the corner of her eye. Her red lips twitched into a winning smirk.

She could hear different tones in his voice - different priorities, focuses outside of her alone. She didn't like that. Dinner was a start. She could change him, make him hers. Kerri pursed her lips as she thought it over. He already could tell she wasn't just human. He took the fun away from her facade. The pleasantry in his tone carried the same ring as her own. What did he want, expect, out of this?

"Are you sure you can entertain me, Aaron?" she countered, barely more than a whisper. She dropped her chin to take another sip of her coffee, closing her eyes before slowly, deliberately, looking back up at him again.

"When and where? I like seven, that's a good time." She shook off his hand. "And I know you're a busy man."

[scribblerrigby]

"Are you sure you can entertain me, Aaron?"

She breathed the words, looking up at him to meet his eyes once again with a teasing, tantalizing stare. She seemed to draw the movement out, elegantly, languidly, reveling in the movement itself, anticipating and relishing the effect she knew it - embarrassingly - was having on him.

“Entertain…” he repeated huskily. He took another deep breath in attempt to calm himself, If this was her game, he could play along. Honey catches more flies, as the saying went.

And it had been a while.

He found he was slowly moving closer to her. Drawn, really. Compelled. This close to her, his senses, his intuition kicked into overdrive. She was unknown, dangerous, inhuman, a threat. Stay away, stay away.

If you’re not a demon, then what are you?

He leaned in hungrily, his voice low, cool and smooth.

“Of course, Kerri. I can always make time. And I know how to be very entertaining,” he purred in reply.

He took care to imply as much meaning behind that word as possible. He tried to will away the tension from his body, hoped she didn’t notice the sweat. He tilted his head slightly. Another eager flick of the eyes once more traveled down her body before finally meeting and holding her gaze. She was young. She could be his kid by any stretch of the imagination. His own Dagny didn’t seem that much younger than she was. But who could tell with a non-human, anyway?

“Seven-thirty,” he said, smiling. “Have you ever been to the Mockingbird?” One of Bridgeport’s rare, upscale offerings. Though it was comparatively small to similar venues, it boasted a romantic ambiance, an impressive menu and a fine selection of wines. He had always liked it, and it had been Eden’s favorite place during his marriage.

Yes. He can play her game. She wanted something. He could provide. He could soften her, put her at ease. He’d pretend to affect friendly interest, engage in the perceived sport of seduction. He was in control. And then he could get what he wanted.

He almost believed that, himself.

[Clairice-Sarah]

As Aaron closed the distance between them her smirk widened into a smile, showing perfect, straight white teeth, lips quirked just to the left in approval to his response. She liked the way his shoulders didn't move. The way his body didn't look as smooth as his words. A dozen earlier husbands and meals passed by her vision, leaning the same, sometimes with a cigarette or a glass of bourbon, but it never really changed.

She shifted her weight to her other hip to bump against him, bemused grin on her face as his eyes wandered.

"Good answer," she replied, hinting only just this once that she held the reins here.

Mockingbird? Kerri thought of the places she'd been, remembering tablecloths and server uniforms but no names. Maybe. Not important; a taxi could get her there. "Once," Kerri lied, "But it was quite a while ago." So what was he? Strange? Another investigator? She counted the decades at the back of her mind; he would be dead by now and his son retired. And she'd done so well in San Francisco.

With all the creatures living here, she couldn't rule out Aaron as a something. Maybe one of her acquaintences knew. She could ask later, after all, he was the one on the leash, here.

"Sounds like a date. I'll see you there."

Kerri moved closer, suggestive, before she backed off again and took measured, poised steps out of the aisle and down to the front register. She greeted the man there with almost the same smile she first flashed Aaron, glancing over her shoulder back to him as she buttoned her coat, replaced her sunglasses, and walked out the door.

Finally, something to do.




After strewing clothes and boxes of shoes across her bedroom, Kerri came across something she hadn't seen in a long time. She stared at the garment, a hunter green dress, and if she remembered correctly, its date of purchase was 1944. She hmmed on it for several minutes before putting it back in its closet in the corner. Too vintage for this man. Perhaps the modern idea of the old silhouette would be the most effective, he must be the type the enjoy pretty things.

She ignored the confused stare from the cab driver when she gave him the directions to the restaurant, ignoring a seatbelt in favour of re-twisting the curled wisps in her hair.

Kerri stepped out of the vehicle at exactly 7:38, in three and a half-inch pumps, her newest slim LBD and lace pantyhose. If this didn't capture him for the long term, she must be out of practice. She tried to bite back the entertainment from her expression as she walked through the Mockingbird doors.

[scribblerrigby]

Aaron, in his dark, tailored jacket and similar ensemble folded himself into one of the Mockingbird’s booths, taking in the dim lighting, the constant murmur of the fashionable crowd, the mouthwatering mixture of diverse, well-prepared foods and vintage drinks. The expensive perfumes were also present in full force, here, though, and that bothered him. He’d been amusing himself and passing the time by learning to discern each scent, and identify which was which.

Bored, already. He tried to remind himself that this dinner would almost be worth the strain of sociability, and checked his watch. She was late.

He pulled his sleeve back down, glanced around the room balefully, and prepared to chalk up “being stood up by a demon,” to his ever-growing list of experiences. This was almost worse than not knowing about her at all – the promise of something interesting, of study and discovery, of power, was too sweet for it to be yanked away so unceremoniously, especially through something as excruciatingly ordinary as a failed dinner-date.

He sighed and absently swirled the contents of his glass, musing. Part of him knew that if she did arrive, it wasn’t going to go quite the way he had planned; her parting remarks in the bookstore had hinted as much. He frowned; he hadn’t expected her to be so human. Or for her to obviously attempt to seduce him. Or for her to be so attractive. How old was she? People would talk.

This was also a place he would often take Eden, before and during their marriage. And now, Kerri. The implications were admittedly unsettling.
He impatiently thrust those less-than-comfortable thoughts and those nagging doubts aside. Feelings like these were no good in a situation such as this. Besides, have you ever seduced a lab rat?, he thought with a smirk, before attempting to distract himself, once again. He’d give her ten more minutes, he decided at last, with some reluctance.

The sudden, dark, mysterious scent that drifted in from the doorway just then was unmistakable. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply to take it in, his mouth turned up in quiet amusement. Fashionably late then, was it?

He looked at her and tensed up, realizing how right he was. She won’t catch him off-guard again, he decided, even as he noted her curves, the stylish shoes, the shape of her legs, her red, red lips. What was she? How old?

He’d begin with the solitary scholar act and carry it to the inevitable, potentially messy conclusion, however long that took. He didn’t like how she provoked that growing uncertainty in between.

“Kerri…” he said, standing to meet her, surveying her with an eager, knowing smirk, voice cool and precise. “Good evening. How are you? I must say I’ve been looking forward to another chance to talk about those interesting things…”