A. Slater

Chapter 2

"You're a monster" Astrid had said. "Do you really feel nothing for what you have done? Not an ounce of remorse? Empathy?"

She didn't. Ana had all the emotion of wet concrete, her facial muscles just as loose. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy or resentment. She never even appeared bored as she sat in her hut on top of the mountain, that at least would have been something. For all the presence she brought to the room she might as well have been a store mannequin. Putting it nicely, she was compliant, almost alien like in the way she would look at someone. To say that her eyes were blue was like saying that the sun was yellow. Sufficient but not accurate to capture the burning. It was curious, for someone so dark you would think they would have the eyes to match. Some found her static gaze interesting, mysterious, even sexual in its appeal. Most found it terrifying; those were the smart ones.

Ana had in fact felt emotions before, when she was a girl and before Lucifer had saved her. She only knew this by the word of her maker. She had no memory of them or what they meant, everything she knew came from observations of others. When she died, so did the girl that she once was. The only similarity between her and who she was, was the power the surged within them. But she was now stronger, unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with.

Her heart was cold, and her mind had no room for pity. Her "heaven" was many victims to consume, victims who became paralyzed with fear before she dined on their soft flesh. Their cries were music to her ears, their blood the finest perfume. To watch them suffer was her serenity, her joy. But her greatest satisfaction lay in taking away loved ones; she could taste the difference. Knowing that she'd struck a blow into the lives of their families and friends was a sickly sweet, intoxicating, more addictive than even flesh.

That night after the slaughter Astrid left, sneaking out in the night to leave her sister alone for the first time in decades. Since their creation, the two girls had been inseparable, taking on their jobs and tasks together. Astrid was the flame to Ana's ice. One felt nothing at all and the other felt everything the other did not.

After discovering her sister's departure, Ana had come to the hut in the mountain for solitude, to escape everything and everyone. She had anticipated it with such relish. But now she was here even the fire seemed cold and part of her longed for some company, something to do, or someone to kill. Being alone became an anguish rather than a salve and she soon packed up, heading for the buzz of the metropolis in search of her next meal.