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would be able to find something and help it. It would at least be something worthwhile, something better than what she was doing now.

As well she lived because she was a coward. She could not stomach the thought of killing herself. She would try, sometimes, but then realize that it was beyond her strength. To kill herself meant to form a shadow. Destined to wander the depths of the Underworld where nothing was as it seemed, and where nothing escaped the pain. It was the harshest punishment one of the Everlasting could go through.

And so she was tapped in this body of hers, addicted to the deaths of her prey, and holding a damaged soul.

Shaking her head slightly, she moved from the shadows into the street. It was time to feed again, a fact of her life she could no longer put off. She had not fed in three weeks, something none of her kind could conceive of. The demon in her was roaring for nutrients, straining against her grip. She had to be careful. One slip and the demon would rage out of control and attack indiscriminately. It had happened before, in her youth, and she did not want it to happen again. Mistakes like that were a hard lesson. But a lesson she knew she would not ignore.

Catching a scent, she raised her head. Across the street, she could see a man in the shadows, his shoulders hunched as he leaned back against a building. His eyes were watchful, and she could smell the violence and alcohol on him. He was most definitely a criminal, and her preferred prey. If she had to kill to feed, then she would at least try to have a benefit.

Slipping downwind of him, she kept to the shadows, making sure she would not see her until the last moment when it would be too late for him to escape her. Having spent hundreds of years hunting her prey, she knew when to stalk and when to pounce.

Getting close, she held her breath, not letting the air move around her. Anything she did could set him off. He was tense and ready for action, ready to attack his next victim and drag them off. His nerves would be ready for anything, making this kill one of the harder ones she would usually have to make. But she had centuries of experience behind her, where he only had a few years. The greater predator always won.

Flipping a knife into her hand, she struck, holding the blade against his throat and pulling him further back into the shadows where no one would see them. He struggled against her, but she was possessed of a supernatural strength, and held him easily. There was no escape

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