Chapter 3

Ben leaned back from his laptop. He was 8 pages into a paper on the geologic history of the Glenwood springs aquaculture. It was slow going and Ben decided he needed a bowl of ice cream to inspire the final pages. He had another hour before Dave and Lisa came back from dinner and he was making the most of it. The house was lit up like a stadium, the Black Keys were redlining the stereo speakers, and his back pack had exploded across the carpet. He was headed back to the couch when the doorbell demanded his attention. He brought down the volume with the remote and headed to the door hoping it wasn't a neighbor upset about the noise. His mom had left on her date with the promise that they would be talking about fighting at school before the night's end, he didn't need to add fuel to that fire.

He checked the peep hole and cursed.

It was that psycho chick that had landed him in the office twice in one day. She stood stage center beneath the porch light glaring murderously at the door. With a growl she reached forward and pounded her fist against the wood. "Open up Benny! I know you're in there."

Ben chewed his lip trying to figure out the quickest way to get rid of her. "Can't, I'm grounded. I'm not allowed to have anyone over."

The girl snickered, "I'm not your friend and this isn't a social call, so open the damn door before I kick it down."

Ben snapped, "No wonder you have the football team gunning for you, your social skills are stunning!" Ben cursed himself for the outbreak. "Look, I think it's better if we just don't EVER see each other, like EVER."

The girl studied the door with her hands on her hips. "Sorry, no can do. I came to apologize and it won't count unless it's face to face." She cocked her head, "Are you really going to play hard to get?"

"Apology accepted, now go have a good night somewhere else," Ben answered, snapping the door chain into place and heading back to the living room. He sat down in front of his laptop. He didn't turn back to his report. Holding his breath he waited. He gave it another second before abandoning his bowl of ice cream to double check that all the doors and windows were locked and the security system engaged. Returning back to the light of the living room, he couldn't quite make himself sit down. So he stood, listening, trying to see past his reflection into the dark of the night.

By the time his ice cream was melted Ben decided the threat had passed. Picking up the bowl, he headed for the kitchen. He shook his head at his fan friggin tastic luck. Trust him to attract a high school stalker. He wondered why "normal" didn't seem to be in his DNA. Rinsing his bowl, he dropped it in the dishwasher and headed back towards the living room. Something made him hesitate, a flash of movement.

Ben barely got his hands up to block the Doc Marten headed for his head. The girl was fast. She swept his leg and had him on his back in a blink. Her weight thudded heavily against his chest as water doused his head. A repeat of her attack that afternoon, Ben found himself spitting from the follow up volley of salt anticipating the cutlery. Jerking her forward Ben arched, sending the girl catapulting over his head. He pushed to his feet and spun to face her.

"Hey Benny," She greeted with an unsettling smirk. She crouched, holding a wickedly sharp blade of silver in her left. Her dark eyes shimmered inhumanly gold, causing Ben to stumble backward into the wall. "Shall we dance?" She teased, stalking forward.

"Why are you doing this?" Ben asked, his voice pitched low, underlying his anxiety.

"My dad says I need to work on my people skills." She dead panned.

Ben stumbled along the wall, trying to maintain his distance. "Uh, who's your dad?" he floundered trying to keep her talking.

She hesitated, giving him a calculating glare, "Mom says not to tell strangers details that are none of their f*ck!ng business!" She spat with alarming heat. Ben stared at her like someone who had just realized the video train wreck he was watching was streaming live. He feinted towards the kitchen then sprinted for the glass slider in the living room. He flicked off the lock and managed several inches of night air before she slammed his forehead into the insulated double-pane glass.

Stunned, Ben never felt the blade sink into his bicep. Skinney yanked him off his feet, the impact stole his breath. Ben struck back, ignoring his body's panic to jumpstart his lungs. She went down in a deadly flurry of elbows and nails. They rolled in a desperate battle; Breath, chugging heat into each other's face, Sweat, undermining their grip on each other, Blood, keeping tally for the score board. Skinney caught the cord of the lamp on the end table and brought it down across Ben's back. Black dust motes drifting across Ben's vision. Rather than press the opportunity, Skinney kicked away, propping herself back against the couch.

Ben lunged for the blade that had been forgotten when it clattered beneath a recliner.

Seeing the knife Skinney gave a husky laugh and held her hand up to halt the action. "Ok," she panted. "You pass," she added pointing at the blood soaking his sleeve. Neither of them looked pretty. She gave him a smile, each of her teeth outlined in red from her bloody lip, "My name's Vanesha." Ben stared at her with wide incomprehension, like she wasn't speaking any language he could interpret. She frowned at him, "I said you pass, nothing supernatural about you."

Ben pulled his feet underneath him, still holding the knife like a ward against her. "Get out!" he growled. She studied him. Her nails had scored his neck, the neckline of his undershirt was torn, and his head was missing a few patches of hair. She climbed to her feet with a soft grunt. Benny packed a decent punch for someone without training. She glanced around at the mayhem left from their exertion. "Want some help cleaning up?" she offered, wincing at a pulled muscle as she reached over to pick up a rumpled entertainment weekly from the floor.

"I'm calling the cops," Ben threatened, heading for his phone peeking out from beneath an overturned chair. Palming the device he cursed. The face plate was crazed and the device wouldn't power on. Dammit! How was he going to explain this to his mom? He turned on the girl, an unsettling darkness in his glare. Her eyes softened with apology, "I can't leave until we figure out what is going on. You are my only lead."

Ben stepped forward, his knuckles tightening around the handle of the knife. "Get out," he said with an unsettling quiet. Vanesha huffed. This wasn't over, but her spidey senses were telling her now was not the time to push. Ben had an unexpected steel core that she was surprised to have run up against. Better to fight another day, she thought with begrudging respect. On her way out the open sliding glass door she stopped to buff away a smudge of blood. Her dad liked to say it was never too late to make a good impression, guess this was one of those moments.

Slipping into the night, she settled back into a neighbor's shrubbery to watch. Ben tucked her knife into his belt and gave her departure a rude salute before snapping the blinds shut. Now that Ben had dropped from prime suspect to likely victim, Vanesha acknowledged a begrudging respect for the guy. Weaving her way back towards the front of the house she found the back pack she had hidden. Pulling out supplies she quietly worked on a few precautionary measures; laying a line of salt across the potential entrances and drawing a devil's trap with a sharpie beneath the welcome mat.