In The Widow's Web

            It took me months and months, but I finally found her. The Widows do not reveal their camp’s location to outsiders, and so I had to do a lot of digging before I finally rooted out the lair. They were camped in Chicago, although they’ve probably moved dozens of times between then and now.

            My visits to the windy city have always been brief; never long enough to really taste the flavor of the place. Normally I would research every aspect of a dangerous operation like this, but I had a limited window. The Widows are constantly moving, scattering, regrouping, traveling far away or perhaps just luring you into a false sense of security. If I wanted to do this, I’d have to do it swiftly.

            I arrived in the city without incident, and laid low for a few days. I walked the streets, listened to the rumors, and sipped quietly from the underground network of deception that is hidden in most major cities. I found the place were men dared not walk, but through which a woman might dare to tread. The Widows had taken over an apartment building off of East 56^th, with the lake not far away (Pro-Tip: I suppose that was their escape route, flee to Canada or Michigan by water).

            I approached the building just as the sun began its descent. I secreted myself in the alleyway opposite its entrance, and waited. Shadows crept out of the corners, and street lights flickered on. A gaggle of young women marched out of the building, laughing and chattering amongst themselves. Well, to the rest of the world they were young women. From my hiding place I could see the tell-tale signs: pale faces, hunter’s eyes, and a loose, rangy way of moving unique to those on the hunt. This was without a doubt a hunting party of Widows. But, Evangeline was not among them.

            With all the stealth I could muster, I snuck to the employee’s entrance around the back of the apartment building. The rusty metal door proved no problem; the ancient locking mechanism was no match for me. Once inside, I removed my shoes and walked barefoot on the badly carpeted floor. Doubtless, there were no men left in the building. Widows don’t trust us, for some reason. This, and the fact that they had sent one of their best assassins after me, made me wary of stirring attention. I didn’t know which room she might be in, and so I gave a careful sniff by each door I passed. I almost was caught by a maid going on her rounds, but I ducked out of sight in time.

            It was at the moment when I had nearly given up hope that I caught a whiff of what I’d been searching for. At our last meeting, I’d noticed that Evangeline’s perfume was a custom blend, no doubt something she made herself (Pro-Tip: French vampiresses are notoriously picky about their scents and colors. They usually make their own, in order to achieve just the right nuance about their person). Smelling it again, amidst that “cheap hotel” odor, I was reminded what excellent taste she had (Pro-Tip: Her perfume was heavy on strawberry, but had some lovely vanilla accents, and just a hint of something tangy I couldn’t identify).

            I followed the smell to room 26, which I’d passed over before, due to the maid’s presence. Carefully, I jimmied the door open. I entered cautiously, whipping my head back and forth. This was certainly the source of the aroma, but I couldn’t find any sign of her presence…except…except there was a set of watery footprints leading from the bathroom into the main room. I snapped my head up. There she stood, eyes widened in surprise (and dare I say just a little pleasure?), hair dripping onto the carpet, garbed in a…

            Ah.

            She appeared to have just stepped out of the shower, and was wearing only a towel and a frown.

            “What the Hell are you doing here?” She snarled. I shushed her violently, and I responded with a note of desperation in my voice,

            “Whatever else you do, lower your voice! If they find me here, I’m dead.”

            “Yes, I quite agree. If they find you here, you’re dead.” She flung the words at me, more than a little incensed, “So why the Hell are you here?”

            “I never got the chance to thank you, for giving me my life.” I whispered back, still disconcerted by her towel.

            “I didn’t give you your life just for you to waste it getting caught here of all places!” Her voice did not soften, but she did lower its volume to a less alarming level. “You’ve said your thanks, and now you need to leave.”

            “Madam, it would offend my honor if I were to leave you with such a meager expression of gratitude as a simple ‘thank you.’”

            “Get. Out.” She growled again, this time with a matching gesture most would consider un-ladylike.

            If she had her way, that would probably have been the end of it. Fortunately, fate intervened. We both froze, as the sound of soft footsteps emanated from THE OPEN DOOR. Wordlessly, and with an expression of utter horror on my face, I slid to the window, wrenched it open, and crawled spider-like up the building, hanging on with only my talons (Pro-Tip: I don’t recommend trying this, EVER. The transformation does not diminish your pain sensors, if anything it enhances them. That made hanging there by my claws the fourth most painful activity I’ve ever had the misfortune of participating in). Gritting my teeth, I listened carefully to the events unfolding in the room below.

            “Mother.” Evangeline’s voice was even and unafraid, she really was quite an actress (Pro-Tip: I doubt the woman she was talking to was actually her mother, more likely she was the leader of The Widows, and was designated their “mother,” which is simultaneously touching, and creepy).

            “Evangeline, why do you not hunt with your sisters?” The voice, though I could not see its owner nearly caused me to vomit. It was a child’s voice, sickly sweet, like a cadaver coated in honey (Don’t ask me how I know what that’s like).

            “I was just refreshing myself, mother. Last night has left me quite tuckered out.”

            “Ah. I myself am a little tired as well.” There was a pause, during which I pondered how a little girl’s voice could possibly portray such menacing intelligence. Then came,

            “Evangeline, what is this smell that so permeates your room?”

            “A perfume, mother, that I make myself.” (Pro-Tip: I knew it!)

            “I know of your perfume, dear, I was referring to the distinct odor of COLOGNE in your room.

            Uh oh.

            Apparently I had neglected to forgo cologne, which in hindsight was pretty foolish.

            Evangeline’s response was a little less collected than before, “I am…experimenting with a new scent. So far it hasn’t worked out, and has only succeeded in fumigating my room.” She gave a forced laugh, a high, tinkling laugh that wasn’t anything like her real one.

            “Hmm. I wonder…” The woman-girl waited an uncomfortably long time before resuming, “I wonder if you might restrict your…experiments…to a more secluded location? The stench is really rather offensive. Good evening.”

            The door closed. Evangeline waited before poking her head out the window.

            “Still here are you?” I nodded grimly in response. “Meet me on the roof, then, in half an hour.” She slammed the window shut, and locked it. Evidently, she wanted me to climb. I clenched my jaw and began pulling myself up, claw over claw (Pro-Tip: This was the third most painful activity I’ve ever had the misfortune of participating in. The things a man will do for a woman).

            As I heaved myself onto the roof, I saw her already there. She’d replaced the towel with a white gown, and was standing near the edge on the other side of the roof. The wind snapped and moaned around her, playfully dancing with the folds of her dress, but not daring to do more than to caress her skin.

            “The city is beautiful at night, is it not?” I asked, crouching on the lip of the building. She did not look at me, but gazed out over the city, looking at the lights. “It is beautiful.” She whispered.

            “Beautiful, yes.” I whispered back, “But tonight I am blessed to walk with something even more dazzling.” She looked at me sharply. “Look,” I said smiling, pointing upwards. Far above the lights of the city, the stars shone down, their pinpricks of cold luminescence contrasted against the harsh brilliance of the city. “Man’s works will never match these.” I said, slipping my hand into hers. We stared up into the night sky. With my other hand, I toyed with the object in my pocket. Too soon. Much too soon. But later, maybe.

            We stayed there all night, a white angel and a dark gargoyle, between the heavens and the earth.