Stone Grey Eyes

She stood with her back to the wall, as they’d told her to do before she left the coast. There never seemed to be any trouble in the subway tunnels, but it didn’t pay to take risks.

She straightened one of her stockings, then smoothed her hands over her long black skirt. Probably not the most sensible outfit, but at least she had the foresight to wear her low boots, instead of heels. Just imagine trying to walk in the snow with those awful things on her feet.

The train pulled up, and she waited for the doors to open before leaving her position against the wall. The car she chose was quite full, which meant she could indulge in her favourite pastime of people-watching. She sat down and wrapped her long wool coat around her.

With a slow movement, she brushed back a lock of her red-brown hair and glanced around the car. There was a lurch as the train started up again, and she grabbed at one of the metal support posts. Her small hand gripped the pole more tightly as she looked to the end of the car.

At the other end was a man; not just any man, but one of the kind she had always been attracted to. He was young, probably younger than her. She snorted to herself. These days, it seemed like everyone was younger than her.

He had the look of a little boy who knows how to save the world from certain destruction, but won’t tell unless he gets a treat first. Medical student, she thought to herself. Has to be. He had a seat to himself, and several books were strewn over it. He was staring out the car window, a mischievous smile on his face, and she turned her head to see what he was looking at.

There was nothing there. Just the tunnel. She looked back at him, at his smooth, clean-shaven face. He wore a black fedora, tilted at a rakish angle. She smiled to herself, and got a stern look from the old lady sitting next to her. With a blush, she tossed her long hair over her shoulder and went back to watching the young man.

The conductor announced the Jane Street station, and the young man began to gather up his books, stuffing them into a knapsack. He grabbed a long coat from the seat and shrugged into it, then slung the bag over his shoulder. He was efficient, she noticed; when the train pulled up to the station, he was already at the doors, waiting for them to open.

The doors stayed open for a few moments while she struggled with her own mind. Should she follow? She had always been painfully shy around strangers; what would she say if she caught up to him? No, she should definitely not go after the young man.

She dived out of the doors just as they were closing.

He was still standing on the platform, rooting through his bag for something. She looked at him with undisguised curiosity, and flinched when he raised his copper eyes to meet hers.

He looked at her for just a moment longer than was polite, then smiled a curious half-smile and started up the stairs. She slowly walked after him, trying to convince herself that he didn’t really know that she was following him.

He led her (because he knew, didn’t he?) through the village, towards High Park (did he really think she wouldn’t follow him there, too?), and into the darkness of the grounds. She looked around cautiously as they moved deeper into the park. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take care of herself, but best if she could avoid a confrontation.

His form was difficult to see; he’d managed to get quite far, and her mind idly skipped over the far-fetched possibilities. Maybe he was a vampire, she thought, giggling quietly in the night. Or a werewolf. Or maybe he was a mass-murderer, that quiet-looking college boy. She almost laughed out loud, and it was because she was lost in thought that she bumped into him.

“Oh...” she said, and smiled shyly at him. “I’m terribly sorry.” She knew she sounded like a stranger. Her accent was not that of a native.

He smiled back, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he answered. There was a curious light in his eyes. It must be the moon, she thought, and glanced up. Yes, it was shining right on his eyes. What wonderful eyes he had.

“Do you always wander around the park at night?” she asked, edging closer to him.

He grinned, a cocky, boyish grin. “Maybe,” he answered. “Do you always follow total strangers into parks at night?”

“Touché,” she murmured, and smiled wryly.

He looked at her, trying to make out her face in the darkness. “Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous, to be here with a total stranger? I mean, I could be anybody. I could be a murderer.” He was not smiling as he said this.

She looked up at him, reached out and touched a finger to his lips. “You could be, at that,” she admitted. “But you’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

He shook his head, woodenly. “No,” he whispered, staring into her stone grey eyes.

The woman smiled broadly and raked a long nail over his neck, drawing a thin red line across his throat. The young man didn’t flinch. That was good. It was less enjoyable when they struggled.

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COLLEGE STUDENT FOUND DEAD

March 23, 1998 - The body of a young man was found in High Park last night, his body completely drained of blood. Police believe this to be the third in a series of possibly cult-related murders taking place around the High Park/Bloor West area. Residents are advised to keep their doors locked at all times, and report any strange occurrences to Sgt. Harold Locke of the Greater Toronto Police Department.