Copyright © 2009 Jayne Waggoner
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
Atop the highest structure of the city, Celic stood with arms outstretched as if to challenge the wind to force him over the edge. Several feet away reclined a woman snatched from the street below. She sobbed, clinging for her life to a nearby rail, her amber eyes rimmed red from her tears. Dark brown hair, which minutes ago held a perfect style, flung wild in the wind into a tangled mess. The beautiful round face, made up elegantly by a professional artist, glistened gray. Her well-shaped lips moved either in prayer or in curses. He stood too far away to hear over the lamentation of the wind. He thought to step closer then decided he didn't care.
An exceptional strong flow of air staggered him backward. He grabbed onto the barrier to keep from being tossed over the outcrop. His and the woman's eyes met. Was there hope in hers? Did she mouth the word 'fall'?
Celic struggled forward to capture her in his arms. She pounded on his chest then thrashed about with renewed vigor. He set her down to feed, but she slammed into him. An opportunity opened for the mighty element to finish the shove. He started to fall. His feet skidded off the edge as he reached out at the last second to catch her hand to draw her over with him.
The woman's scream became a long wail. He laughed and brought her body against his in their plummet. His fangs extended to take her blood for his meal. Less than fifty feet from the ground his transformation began. She continued the final decent while he floated above. It felt good to feed.