Disclaimer: Stephenie owns everything, the world, my life, my right pinky toe...but more important than all that, Twilight and its characters.
Prologue
Blood...it was calling to him – like a moth to the flame or a starving wolf to the chicken. He needed it, and this one smelled so sweet.
He ran. Unfortunate, for this particular victim, that he was not in a sunny mood today. Its death would be painful.
James grinned morbidly, sickeningly, and ran through the alleyways.
He could see her up ahead of him, long auburn waves swept back behind her shoulders. She was sitting on a bench, flushed skin glowing in the lamplight, skirts and petticoats draped over the side of the bench. No one was around to stop him, not that they could if they so desired.
He stopped in the shadows to observe his prey.
She was writing in a leather-bound notebook. What was she writing? He could soon find out if he wanted to.
This was a rare find. It was the late nineteenth century. Women usually remained indoors and participated in activities that required minimal thought, embroidery and the like. He shrugged, and thought grimly, that he liked his meat prepared rare. Well-done was simply too stale.
He took a step towards his victim. A breeze from the Charleston harbor blew her hair and sent her delectable scent wafting towards him. She shivered and glanced up, eyes unknowingly looking at her personal reaper.
He snarled when he noticed, with a vengeance, that she looked like her! Good, he thought, all the more reason to kill this girl. And let Syl..HER, he quickly corrected himself, take all his extra lashings in Hell.
He couldn't control it anymore. He stepped out of the shadows and, crouching, stalked towards the girl.
Several seconds later, every candle in every bedroom of the harbor was lit, the occupants awakened by a series of blood-curdling screams.
A/N: Quite a bit different from my romance/comedy/drama, Rose Thorns...hmmm...who's her I wonder? And remember folks, this is a dark story. Scary. As in, don't read at night by yourself in a creakedy old house. I just...wondered about James and his background. Could his evil be an acquired trait? Also, I set this story in the Edwardian era...Very fitting, don't you think?