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Grains of sand glistened white in the moonlight, bright against the midnight-black backdrop of her wet hair. With the back of his gloved hand, he brushed a few stray strands off her cheek and to the side, so that it fanned out around her with the rest. He smiled in satisfaction. More sand from the beach sparkled against the pale skin of her face and arms. Blue lips were parted slightly, as if she could take in that last breath she'd been gasping for so recently. Blank indigo eyes stared up at him. He gently closed them. In its wetness, her white sundress clung to every curve, a hint of dark nipples showing through.
She was, in a word, perfection. He'd do her justice.
Taking her limp wrist gingerly in his hand, he lifted it, positioning her arm outward and upward. He repeated the action with her other arm, then tilted her chin up toward the sky.
Sitting back on his haunches, he took in his creation. Even better than I'd imagined. Young. Pure. Ready to embrace what was to come. And she had. She'd done exactly as he'd asked, and he would honor her sacrifice.
He stood and stepped out of the protected cove, the soft sand giving way under his feet. He'd brush away all traces of his footsteps. Nobody would ever know he'd been here.
The tang of salty air hit his nose and cooled his perspiring skin, causing a light dusting of sand to encrust his bare arms and legs. He looked up and down the deserted stretch of beach. Nobody would see them here, hidden in the covenot that anyone was around at this early hour of the morning. He'd chosen the setting carefully, as always.
He turned back to his victim. She had once been known as Lisa, but with his help, she'd emerged from the frothy waves of the ocean as one of his angels. The Angel of Water. Now she would rise to her eternal reward. Pulling his equipment from the bag he'd stashed behind the rocks earlier, he began his process with a thrill of anticipation for the result. The full moon would begin its descent soon, and his light would be gone. He had to work fast.