Her Scent (Short Story)
08th June 2026
In: Short Stories
He didn’t like the way she was looking at him. It made him uneasy, but he wasn’t yet sure he was right. She was a very pretty girl — woman, he corrected himself — but there was something a bit off about her face that repelled him. A warning that told him to keep his distance. No, it was more than that. He actually sensed danger. It came across from her in sweet/sour waves that both attracted and sickened at the same time.
She was very graceful, he noticed, her movements neat and economical. The way she so casually sank into a chair opposite him, crossed her legs, arranged her skirt so that her smooth, perfectly sculpted knees peeped from below its hemline. He tried not to stare, making himself blink as though to relieve something irritating one eye.
‘Have you worked here long, Frank?’
Her voice made him start, but he recovered quickly, mumbling an answer
‘Six years, or so...’ A soft voice, no accent that he could make out, it sounded hollow, lacking human warmth. His skin prickled. He needed to keep a safe distance from her.
The phone buzzed. They both looked at it.
‘Don’t answer it.’
He froze for a second, that hesitation almost his undoing. She lept across the space them, teeth bared, claws raking at his neck.
It was a quick, clean kill. A mercy killing, he told himself. He looked at her body, now transformed to its natural state. Real ugly little bitch, he thought, and almost convincing. He picked up the phone. ‘All okay — I’ve dealt with it. Send Larry in to clean up, would you? Thanks.’
Frank sat and smoked while they wrapped up its body. Celine, she’d said her name was, and she looked the part, too, and nearly got away with it. They were getting better at mimicking human behaviour, but they couldn’t block whatever it was he picked up on. Pheromones, perhaps. Alien chemistry that tipped him off, triggered a warning bell. He sniffed the air. It smelt vaguely of dog.
Once he was alone, he got out an economy-sized can of air freshner.
She was very graceful, he noticed, her movements neat and economical. The way she so casually sank into a chair opposite him, crossed her legs, arranged her skirt so that her smooth, perfectly sculpted knees peeped from below its hemline. He tried not to stare, making himself blink as though to relieve something irritating one eye.
‘Have you worked here long, Frank?’
Her voice made him start, but he recovered quickly, mumbling an answer
‘Six years, or so...’ A soft voice, no accent that he could make out, it sounded hollow, lacking human warmth. His skin prickled. He needed to keep a safe distance from her.
The phone buzzed. They both looked at it.
‘Don’t answer it.’
He froze for a second, that hesitation almost his undoing. She lept across the space them, teeth bared, claws raking at his neck.
It was a quick, clean kill. A mercy killing, he told himself. He looked at her body, now transformed to its natural state. Real ugly little bitch, he thought, and almost convincing. He picked up the phone. ‘All okay — I’ve dealt with it. Send Larry in to clean up, would you? Thanks.’
Frank sat and smoked while they wrapped up its body. Celine, she’d said her name was, and she looked the part, too, and nearly got away with it. They were getting better at mimicking human behaviour, but they couldn’t block whatever it was he picked up on. Pheromones, perhaps. Alien chemistry that tipped him off, triggered a warning bell. He sniffed the air. It smelt vaguely of dog.
Once he was alone, he got out an economy-sized can of air freshner.