• She looked anxious, her pretty face slightly creased with worry. Her long, curly mane of hair cascaded down her back in a dark waterfall, stark against the white of her thin summer dress. She hugged her arms around her chest, peering into the steadily growing darkness that was night.
    "Lost, my dear?" A silky voice inquired. She looked up and saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen looking down at her. He wasn't hot, he wasn't even handsome, he was... gorgeous, actually.
    "Er, not really." She stammered. His gaze was making it hard to think.
    "Are you sure?"
    "Well..." What harm could telling him do? "Actually, yes. I'm supposed to be at..." She checked a scrap of paper. "Club Loco, in Woodley Avenue."
    "My dear! That's mere minutes away!" He exclaimed, smiling. She smiled back, dazzled. His grin was as dazzling as looking directly into the sun, only worse.
    "I will escort you, of course. One cannot know what sort of..." He glanced around. "Danger is lurking on nights like this."
    "Well, thanks!" She allowed him to steer her down the street. He smiled down at her again, and she relaxed completely. He was a good guy, not a dangerous threat. "I'm Molly."
    "Molly? How... how..."
    Molly rolled her eyes. "I know. It's awful. My mum was into old fashioned names. I'm lucky she didn't call me Rita or Margaret or something."
    "I was going to say, how wonderful. Molly is a truly unique name." He beamed at her. All of her arguments about how Molly was actually a very common name slipped away, la-di-da. The only thing that mattered was that he smiled at her.
    "Here it is." They stopped outside an old, crumbling building.
    Molly frowned. "This is Club Loco? Geez."
    He laughed, a throaty chuckle. "It's much more... intriguing... inside."
    "Uh... okay." Molly followed him inside, her arguments once again slipping away before she could even think of them.

    The inside of the building was even more dismal than the outside. Molly looked around dubiously.
    "Uh, what did you say your name was again?" She asked nervously.
    "I didn't. My name is James." He smiled at her. All her worries suddenly seemed silly. James was a good guy, right?
    He stepped closer to her and gathered her into his arms.
    "Your scent intoxicates me..." He murmured, lips brushing the line of her jaw. She gasped.
    "Don't you think you're being a little too friendly?" She asked when she could think again.
    "Not at all, my dear." He brushed her neck delicately, then there was a sharp pain. She screamed, but it was cut off by a strong hand clamping over her mouth.
    Her limp body dropped to the floor a few minutes later, the once tanned skin bone white. James wiped his mouth, his once-white teeth bloody. He smiled down at her.
    "And now I must leave you, my dear." He whispered, striding out of the building and disappearing into the night.