"Before Dawn"

Chapter 1: The Imp-Man

It's always darkest before the dawn.

She had read that expression somewhere before, had heard those words spoken. In either case, she couldn't remember where or when but doubted that those very same words applied to her in the context in which they were intended—especially right about now. Sixteen-year-old Dawn Morningside is about to make her first kill and she's feeling dark about it. An awfully, exquisite-dark.

It's only the third week into her summer vacation from Gloucester High and she's kneeling in the wood-line, hoping this is the tail-end of her hunt. Adrenaline and anxiety course through her veins causing her to sweat more profusely in the dusk's blistering heat. The impish-looking-humanoid in the grassy clearing she'd been following and now watching from a distance is crouching, chowing down on a—well, Dawn couldn't quite tell what it was devouring. When she had picked up its trail five minutes ago, all she could see was that it had had an animal of some kind in its clutches. It looks like a deer as far as she can tell. Whatever the red-winged impish-thing was eating, it was throwing down on it somethin'-fierce. Dawn sees brown fur floating in the air as it rips it apart, can hear bones crunching with each bite, and hear the imp-thing grunting in ecstasy with every loud, sloppy swallow.

Disgustingly annoying to hear, Dawn thinks, her full lips pursed.

Her immediate concern is how to get close enough to it and kill it with one—or both—of her wakizashis. She entertains the non-realistic thought of throwing one the short swords at it to take it down. Her luck is not that good. The Japanese-style blades sheathed in their custom-made scabbards in an "x" across her back were not balanced for throwing anyway. She's packing a .22 strapped to her waist under her shirt, and like her blades, the bullets had been blessed with holy water—but she really wants to fight in-close, test her skills.

Dawn doesn't want to end up following this thing any further. It's too freakin' hot out. Her khakis and shirt are stuck to her sweaty skin, and her socks are soggy in her sneakers. Her pinned-back, almond brown hair is becoming unraveled, a few strands of it hanging to her high cheekbones for dear-life. Yeah. Too damned hot, time to make a move.

Dawn stands to her full five-foot-eight frame and unsheathes her wakizashis. She moves from the wood line as a cauldron of excitement and fear burns in her gut, waiting to erupt. Swords at-the-ready, she steps toward the gobbling imp-thing and stops within twenty feet or so of it.

"It's about time you came out to play," the imp-thing said over its shoulder. His voice is hollow and grainy, and he's chewing a mouth full of carcass.

Dawn is startled, caught off guard.

"You've been following me a while," the imp-thing said, matter-of-factly.

How long did it know I was on its ass?

Dawn feels inclined to say something, anything to let this thing know that she's ready for whatever is to happen next. "Damn-straight," she said. "And now I'm done following you." She's satisfied with her answer, but hears the doubt in her own voice nonetheless.

"Well-well, then. 'Done following' me? What-to-do, what-to-do, child?"

The imp-thing is mocking her—and this pisses hot-headed Dawn off. Not to mention he had had her running around in this blazing heat when it all could have been avoided. The imp-thing apparently didn't see her as a threat either.