The Study of Blood in Winter

Copyright © Catalina Dudka 2013. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing. ‘I’m a fountain of blood In the shape of a girl’ —Björk Danika watched as her quarry stood in front of the large picture window of his apartment. The living room light bathed his tall frame and lean musculature with warmth. His pale skin gleamed from a recent shower and beads of water formed on the ends of the dark curls at his forehead. The partially open robe he wore matched the blue of his almond shaped eyes, which were framed by absurdly long lashes. Said eyes followed the gentle fall of feathery snowflakes, yet failed to notice her, even though she was perched on the ledge of the building on the other side of the glass. This owed in part to his own abstract thoughts as well as the fact that she had wrapped the night around herself like a cloak. As the air around her continued to freeze and the snow to fall, it was more than inhuman strength that kept Danika on that ledge. While she continued to watch him, her craving increased. She sensed the sexual arousal just sparking beneath the surface of his reserve. And she hungered. She had been born a Goddess and, like the rest of her kind, had existed alongside humanity for aeons. In more recent times she had been called demon, angel, succubus, vampire. All accurate, as she needed humans to live—their faith, their blood, their essence. There had been a time when mob-filled temples had held elaborate ritualistic sacrifices to those like her, while holy wars were fought to honour their names. Wars so soaked in blood and devotion that her kin could gorge and grow their powers. Occasionally, they would seduce desirable individuals, take their essence a little at the time for their personal amusement and invigoration. However, time went on and as the world changed, their hold on humanity waned. Danika, being the last of her kind, did what she needed to do to survive. At times like these, that was pleasurable indeed, for her needs and desires matched up perfectly. Her wandering thoughts were yanked back to the present by a small movement. To her delight, her prize’s hand had meandered beneath the parted robe to absently rub against his flat belly, then lower. Danika licked her lips in anticipation. From his living room window, Julian watched the snow fall over Helsinki. The city’s nightscape dotted by street lamps with the occasional brightly coloured splash of holiday lights was not what busied his mind this night. While following the fall of one snowflake in particular, his gaze was caught by his own reflection on the glass. With typical detachment, he noted the perfectly shaped mouth and the sharply sculpted cheekbones he had inherited from his mother—the long yet retroussé nose and strong chin that had come from his father. His aristocratic ancestors had also bestowed long, strong limbs upon him, an elegant neck and a refined bearing, which he kept stalwart with meticulous exercise as well as an appropriately nourishing diet. Every basic need was precisely met to keep his body functioning at optimum so that he could concentrate on his work without being unduly bothered by physical requirements. At times like these, he could imagine how others might be surprised that he was ill. His outward appearance gave no hint to the flawed nature his body hid so well, and he shared the information with very few. In his professional life he had many associates and because of his familial connections he had a great number of acquaintances, but he could count the number of people he was close to on one hand. He watched how the dark curls that had been plastered to his head were springing back into shape and found himself wondering what it would feel like to have someone’s fingers threading through them. With a grimace he banished that thought from his mind. He didn’t need intimacy. It was not something he dwelt on, like nourishment and rest—