Lover Beware

the stars.
    A perfect night to feed.
    A woman moves out of the shadows and stands in a pool of light from an overhead vapor lamp. She smiles, tosses back her scraggly bleached hair, and licks her overly painted lips.
    “Hello, handsome. Looking for a little companionship?”
    He pauses, cocks his head to one side, and appraises her face. She isn’t pretty. Not anymore. The life has grooved deep creases in her forehead. He would do her a favor by killing her. Put her out of her filthy misery.
    “Not interested,” he says, and keeps moving. Not his type. He likes them young and more vulnerable.
    Onward. Prowling the old sidewalks, in and out of the shadows along St. Peter Street, right on Pauline. Jazz drifts to him from Bourbon Street, the boisterous frivolity of drunks, women’s high-pitched shrieks, and laughter.
    Ahead. Blond. Petite. Young.
    She is nervous. He likes that.
    He watches as she shifts from foot to foot, glances over one shoulder, then another. Her hair is long and silky and cascades over her back. She doesn’t want to be here. But she has no choice. Perhaps she is fresh to the life. Ah, that would be nice. So much easier to frighten the new ones.
    He moves up behind her, so silent she hasn’t noticed.
    “Hello,” he says.
    She turns, drawing in a sharp breath. Her eyes are wide and her red lips parted. Blue eyes made green by the yellow lamplight. Blue eyes are his favorite. They turn dark as a deep ocean when they are dying.
    She backs away slightly and swallows. “You scared the bejesus outta me, mister.”
    “Sorry.”
    He leans against the street sign. One Way. Oh, yeah. One way for her tonight. Isn’t she lucky?
    “Working?” he asks.
    “I ain’t out here for my health.”
    Smiling. “Warm night.”
    She pushes back a tendril of pale hair stuck to her cheek by sweat.
    “Could use a cigarette. Have you got one on you?” he asks.
    Looking him up and down. “Sure.”
    Her hands are shaking slightly as she digs in her purse, extracting a crumpled pack of Virginia Slims. She offers him one, then takes one for herself. Her hands are trembling too badly to handle the lighter, so he takes it from her and lights the cigarette for her.
    “Uptight, huh?” He smiles again. “Don’t blame you. Young, pretty lady like you isn’t safe out here. Not after what’s happened recently.”
    She nods and smokes.
    “How many of you has he killed now?”
    “Four. Not counting that mother and her kids.”
    “Nasty business.”
    “Ah, yeah.” She chokes out a tight laugh. “I’d say cutting off our heads is pretty fuckin’ nasty.”
    “He eviscerates them as well.”
    Frowning. “If that’s a pretty way of saying he slices them open, then yeah.”
    “Did you know them?”
    “Sorta. Haven’t been around here long.”
    “Where you from?”
    “Dallas.”
    “What brought you to New Orleans?”
    “Needed a clean break.”
    “Mama and daddy back there?”
    Nodding. Smoking. She looks up and down the dark street, then checks her watch.
    “Have you spoken with them recently?”
    “Last night.”
    “That’s good. That’s very good. Pretty young girls from Dallas should keep in close contact with their family.”
    “My mama’s birthday’s tomorrow.”
    Smiling. “Did you buy her something pretty?”
    “Said all she wanted was for me to come home.”
    “Then why don’t you?”
    She shrugs and tosses down her cigarette. “Don’t have the money.”
    He reaches out and touches her hair. So very soft and pretty. Closer now, he can smell her perfume. Something floral. Like jasmine. “Tell you what, pretty little girl. I’ve got five hundred dollars in my wallet. If you’re real nice to me, I’ll give it to you. But on one condition.”
    She stares at him and he realizes with a heat of pleasure that she is even younger than he first thought. Sixteen, seventeen, maybe.
    “One condition,” he repeats. “You buy yourself a bus ticket and go home to see your mama on her birthday. Will you do that?”
    “You’re jokin’ me, right?”
    “No joke.”
    “What’s the catch?” Her eyes narrow. “You into kinky or what?”
    “Let’s just say I feel like doing you a favor tonight.”
    She finally smiles. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
    “Promise?”
    She nods and turns away, moving toward the dark alley. He follows closely. Her smile is bright and excited as she glances at him over her shoulder.
    “What you carryin’ around in that backpack anyhow?” she asks.
    “Oh,