We Are Being Hunted.
Forgotten in time, lost to legend, the Lochkray are the hunters of the night, the origin of the modern vampire myth.
When a search party treks into remote woods, looking for a missing archaeologist, a lone Lochkray follows them, hoping they will lead the way to a lost settlement of his people. When an unnatural creature hunts the searchers down one by one, it becomes unclear whether they will all die, or unwittingly unleash the malevolent plot the Lochkray set into motion centuries before.
The hunter looked about, scanning left to right with his pale blue eyes, walking with a determined pace through the crowd. Occasionally he turned to take a more detailed look at one of the patrons, but none measured up to what he wanted. Too old or too young, less virtuous than originally believed to be, just not of the right scent. It was a difficult hunt for him, although to look at him one would never know it. He walked so calmly, so casually. He stalked the bar as any other might amble across a sunny park.
Then he located his prey.
His head jerked suddenly towards the dance floor, his eyes became determined slits, his nostrils flared and inhaled deeply. He found what he wanted, through a break in the crowd, a momentary alleyway that let him see his target. He changed his direction and headed for the circular dance floor, recessed three steps below the rest of the room. There, the giant speakers took a moment to relax and the song slowed down for a few bars, a sedated bridge before exploding into its rapid throbbing beat again, and it was then that he got a clear look at her.
She danced with two friends, both female, her hands held high above her head, slowly grinding down as if she were the euphony itself. Then, as the tempo raised again, her hands came down and her body joined in the wild dance of the song.
He locked on her. Twenty-one revolutions around the sun, twelve days from her last time, her virtue unknown. In an age of loose ethics, this quality of prey was a rare find and upon seeing it, the hunter’s dark heart pounded as hard as the music. He immediately found her scent amongst the others and inhaled it deeply, feeding his appetite, turning its smoldering into a blaze. He forced his way to the dance floor and watched his quarry carefully. He looked into her as best he could, and cautiously devised his attack. He would do it right there, he decided, within the establishment. Right there. On the dance floor.
As for the young lady, she was unaware that she was hunted.