The Howling

Chapter Eleven

        Villette wasn't sure if she landed or simply stopped falling. One moment the blackness had enveloped her, preventing her from even seeing the debris she fell with, and the next she was sitting on the ground of an outdoor cafe, blinking the sun out of her eyes. 

        Her head snapped around. She was surrounded by patio chairs and tables, the umbrellas raised up to block out the sun. Half drunk mugs of coffee and tea sat on the tables, with steam still rising from them. She heard music drifting from a speaker set somewhere, the soft tone of a woman serenading her in a language that sounded either Spanish or Italian. 

        But there weren't any people. It was as if everyone had suddenly vanished. Purses still sat on tables or the ground, jackets and scarves were still draped over the backs of chairs. Sunglasses were still put aside on the table besides cell phones and napkins and pastries, but there was no one in sight. 

        She hoisted herself up, using the table closest to her for support. Her legs still felt wobbly from the fall. She waited a minute or two before moving out of the café and out onto the street. 

        Shops and other cafes lined either side of the street. Doors were open. Shops signs in bright colors had been put up in some of the windows. Bright awnings caught her eye. 

        But there were no people. There wasn't anyone. 

        She stood alone in the street, looking up and down. A few cars were parked every now and then. Bold colored streamers wrapped around the street lamps. There were bikes parked up on the sidewalk and one book store had even wheeled out some small shelves filled to overflowing with used paperbacks, but there weren't people shopping. No one sat in the cafes. No one strolled down the streets. 

        It was if they had all just vanished without a trace. 

        In the quiet, she could still hear the sound of the woman's song bouncing down the street, echoing off the storefronts, mixing with the radios playing in the other few shops. But that was the only sound she heard. There were no dogs barking, car horns blaring, or birds chirping. There was nothing. 

        "Kind of eerie, huh?" a voice behind her asked. 

        She spun around. In the café she had just left sat a man about her same age. There was a mess of blonde hair atop his head. His skin had been tanned from long hours exposed to the sun, his build slight, not overly toned with bulging muscles but trim and lean. He wore tan cargo pants, a black V-neck shirt, and royal blue Converse shoes. His blue eyes smiled mischievously as he regarded her thoughtfully. 

        Instantly, her guard shot up. "Who are you?" 

        His coy grin deepened as his eyes roamed over her, moving up and down slowly over the length of her. She felt the sudden urge to wrap her arms around herself or snap at him to stop looking at her that way. Instead, she repeated her question, her tone sharper. "Who are you?" 

        "You know what I am. And I know what you are, little girl." 

        She felt a chill trace down her spine. "You're a demon." 

        His smile broadened. He had been sitting at one of the cafe tables, his feet on the ground, but now he swung them up onto the table, crossing one over the other. He tucked his hands behind his head. "Give the girl a prize." 

        "Which kind?" she demanded. 

        "Of prize?  Well I don't have much.  I could give you a kiss, if you asked nicely."