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"Excuse me, do you know where I could get some clothes?"
Sally jumped and nearly dropped her sketchbook into the water when she heard that sweet, beguiling voice for the first time, then again when she looked down to see the most beautiful woman she'd ever laid eyes on treading water just below the pier. Her eyes were a bright shade of purple that matched the hair billowing out behind her like the tentacles of some deep-sea beast. Her skin practically glowed under the light of the full moon above.
"Um, uh..." Sally had stammered uselessly, trying not to stare at the woman's obvious nakedness. "There's a pawn shop n-nearby that's open 24/7. Bit shady, but-"
"Perfect," the stranger had interrupted, breaching out of the water like a shark to land beside Sally with a soft thud, inadvertently showering her in the process.
"H-Hang on! You can't just go walking through town naked! Shit, um... Wait here! I'll go get you some clothes."
Sally wasn't even supposed to go out that night. Everyone knew the old harbour district was dangerous, full of nasty rumours and unsolved cases. But the moon had been so bright, and the water so clear, she simply had to draw it.
The stranger from the waves had appreciated it, though. Said "You make his pain look so serene", whatever that meant. She was an odd one.
After that night she kept running into her around town, but never far from the harbour. Carousing in bars, dancing in clubs like she was tearing apart a struggling seal, or ambushing her from out of alleyways. Or one time, from a fire escape.
Over time, the stranger's wardrobe grew more sophisticated. Cleaner clothes, a pair of dainty red-rimmed glasses, but never anything more expensive than what could be bought with pocket money.
Once, under the light of a streetlamp outside her apartment, drunker than she wanted to admit, Sally had kissed that enigmatic woman and practically begged for her name.
"You can call me Storm."
They were out walking one night, heading for the docks for a slightly illegal live model sketch, when Storm lost patience and pulled her into a nearby alleyway. A tiny, filthy courtyard crammed between old apartments. She kissed Sally there like she wanted to devour her, like she was only barely holding herself back from tearing a chunk out of her shoulder, then smiled against her neck when she heard approaching footsteps.
"Well, look at what we have here. The Bish' don't like poachers on his turf, girlie," a man in a leather jacket called out, his face pale and gaunt like someone had grabbed the back of his head and pulled until the skin stretched across his bones. He carried a baseball bat, and was flanked by three other men, all of them armed and looking eager for a fight.
"I'm afraid you've misread the situation," Storm replied calmly, turning to position herself between the hooligans and Sally like a shield.
"Storm, what the fuck are you-" Sally whispered, tugging on her sleeve. They should already have been running.
"Situation looks pretty clear from where I'm standing," the leader of the men replied, baring his teeth. Sally's blood ran cold at the sight of sharp, curving fangs. Storm on the other hand grinned, suddenly vibrating with energy and sounding giddy like Christmas had just come early.
"Oh! Well now I agree, the situation looks much clearer! I wasn't sure I'd find any lampreys in this city, but thank you, thank you for proving me wrong! Oh, this will be fun..." Storm squealed, taking a step forward, before stopping like she'd just remembered something. She turned to look over her shoulder, and in the haze of memory her skin almost looked like it was rippling and changing colours. There were far too many teeth in her mouth. "Sally, you should run. We'll catch up later."
And so, Sally ran. Away from Storm, away from the sounds of tearing flesh and panicked yelling. She ran for what felt like hours but could only have been minutes, collapsing inside her apartment and locking the door behind her. She rushed into the bathroom to vomit and splash her face with cold water.
She was interrupted by a familiar voice at the door, and there stood Storm. Naked and covered in someone else's blood, smiling as if nothing happened, handing Sally the sketchbook that she had dropped in her flight.
"Could I borrow some clean clothes? And I might have to raid your fridge. I am starving."