Flash Fiction Friday

First Impressions ©2006, Cassandra Curtis A keen sense of observation has kept me alive more times than I want to think about. So I immediately noticed the potential problem on our hands when he walked in the Café. Tall, dark and dangerous guys I can handle. It’s the quiet, non-descriptive ones that scare me. And this guy scared me plenty. He looked to be in his late twenties, and about three inches taller than my own five foot seven. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and high-tops. No tats, or distinguishing marks. Like I said, he was your average Joe. He walked over to a table and sat down–folded his hands. Oh yeah, trouble. If TK is the brains of our outfit, then I’m the brawn…if you can call it that. I don’t do martial arts, or pack heat. I instead rely on my rapier wit and magickal charms. If this turned ugly, we were in for some serious shit. The Café is open 24/7, and while we do a brisk business, we do have slow times. Thankfully, the place was near deserted. Nothing worse than innocent bystanders getting hurt. The other lone patron was a regular, named J.T. She sat in a far corner, sipping rich, Italian espresso and typing on her laptop. She was also quiet. Typical browser. She’d come into the Café, look around, order her usual, and never make a comment. As I approached Average Joe’s table, I noticed he was staring straight down at the wood laminate surface. Someone had written in ink, “Witches Do It In Circles.” Real funny. They also wrote it in magickal ink, so no matter how much I scrub the table, the damn thing always reappears. “Enjoying the view?” I had to say something to the guy, and I figured I might as well begin with an opening salvo. He looked up at me and I could see his eyes full of swirling colors. Not sure if I stood there for minutes or seconds, but I knew one thing. I was in deep doo-doo, ‘cause I saw his lips move and didn’t hear a damn word. I took one step back, then another before I froze. I tried to break eye contact, but he was too powerful. My mind raced. What the hell kind of Para was he, anyway? A shiver danced along my arms, and down my belly. If I could reach the charm bags in my pockets I could break his spell. Instead, my hands refused to obey my will–only his. My fingers fumbled with the buttons on my cotton blouse as heat pooled between my legs. The bastard smiled now. Damn, a gal likes to be asked first. I redoubled my efforts. He was using some sort of hypnotic mind control. My blouse hit the floor, my hands already guided to the back strap hooks of my bra. Someone shoved me sideways and told me to close my eyes. I heard the crackling of power unleashed and a whiff of sulfur in the air. A hand clasped mine and pull me to my feet. J.T. stood in front of me. “You okay?” “What the hell just happened?” She bent to retrieve my blouse. “Here. You need to put this back on.” I slid my arms in the sleeves, feeling more than a little freaked as I re-buttoned my shirt. “You almost got yourself snared by a Sex Fiend.” “A what?” “A Fiend. A type of Para-creature that needs a specific element to survive. Some say Vamps fall into this category, since they need blood to survive. Your guy at the table was a Sex Fiend. He needed sex to survive. Problem is, most fiends don’t ask first. They mesmerize their victims, then take what they want. At least vamps weave a bit of desire in their victims’ minds, make it pleasurable for both parties. A true fiend doesn’t worry with that.” “I had no idea such a thing existed. Thank you, J.T. I’m glad you were here.” “No problem.” I looked over at the now empty table and the pile of dust on the floor beside it. “That what’s left of him?” “Yes. You can sweep it up and throw it in the trash without any worries.” “How come he didn’t ensnare you, too?” “ I have a natural immunity to mind control.” She flashed me a wide grin and went back to her laptop and espresso. The tips of her fangs glinted in the moonlight.