From the author: A horror story for Walpurgis Nacht.
by Stephen Dedman
Brent liked the suicidal ones the best, and he was getting better at picking them, but any woman coming out of Hendrik’s place had potential. It was why he liked this taxi rank better than any singles bar, why he thought of it as the waterhole. It had been the skinny goth girl who’d first called him a predator; he’d forgotten her name, and nearly everything else about her, except for her tiny nipples and the way her pubic hair was so much paler than the stuff...