VIII.

"Looking for these," Lila whispered holding up the files she'd taken.

One of them snarled. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your mirror," she answered.

The woman leapt at her. Lila sidestepped. Her essence flowed through the file's paper as a piece sliced into the woman's arm. The wound turned black and started to spread. Lila sucked in her breath in rapture.

The male teacher threw a heavy book at her. But where Lila had been, she was no more. He stepped backward into her embrace as she crooned to him, "you're mine, all mine, all mine," and absorbed him fully while his lover and co-conspirator watched; and died. 

"One more. One more." The words pounded through her; a primitive, pulsing force. Her diaphragm contracted and expanded with every gasping breath. There was no more fear to smell! No evil to taste! She howled in frustration. The papers fluttered on the floor as a flash of blue passed beyond the room's door. She followed as the dead body behind her burst into flame.