Writing a (Supernatural) Killer Romance

Lestat. Carmilla. Damon and Stefan Salvatore. What do they have in common? They’re sexy, intriguing, and serial killers.

(The Evolution of Vampires in Writing.)

Before we talk about why we’re drawn to supernatural killers and how best to write them, let’s get the serious business out of the way. In real life, obviously you do not want to be attracted to, date, or enter into any sort of relationship with someone who leaves a pile of dead bodies in their wake. There’s nothing appealing about a person who devalues human life or thinks nothing of ending it for their own pleasure or gain.

But…in fiction with a fantastical twist? There’s a strange allure that comes from an unknowable, infinitely more powerful creature looking at their prey and saying, “You are the exception.” That deadly fascination has been on my mind a lot, ever since I got the idea for what would become The Fox and the Devil.

From the very start, I knew the love interest of Anneke Van Helsing would be the only suspect in a string of brutal, horrendous slayings—murders that started with Anneke’s father, Abraham Van Helsing. The challenge was making the reader believe Diavola was capable of terrible things, but also find her intriguing enough not to be disgusted by her.

It was important to anchor impressions of Diavola in how Anneke sees her. Anneke’s first response is attraction, before she realizes it’s her own dying father Diavola is standing over. And after, as Anneke pursues Diavola across Europe, the fascination is revealed to be mutual through letters Diavola leaves behind. There’s an intoxicating flattery to being the object of someone’s obsession, and Anneke isn’t immune to it. She may be trying to kill Diavola, but she still feels seen and understood by her. Anneke’s relentless determination sets her apart from the world; who better to understand her than someone set apart from humanity?

But it wasn’t enough for Anneke to find Diavola desirable. My readers needed to, as well. So, I followed five basic steps for crafting a killer love interest.

We all want beauty in our life, and pretty privilege even applies to excusing little things like a diet of human blood, or the occasional foray into cannibalism. (I’m looking at you, Mads Mikkelsen.) Sex appeal isn’t just about looks, though. If our characters can’t help but be drawn to the raw danger and intensity of their love interest, our readers won’t be able to resist, either.

There’s a fine line between fear and desire; good stress and bad stress mostly feel the same. The more you can blur that line, the better. In the letters Diavola leaves for Anneke at crime scenes, there’s a teasing undercurrent. Is she threatening Anneke, or is she flirting?

That element of the unknown—the what if—strings us along and gets us invested. Horror and romance are far more similar genres than most people realize. It’s all about the buildup and then the release of tension. Will they or won’t they (kill each other and/or hook up)?

Nothing makes me willing to forgive egregious sins faster than a powerful being respecting a mortal one. Because how bad could they really be if they would murder anyone but you? (Pretty bad! I realize this. But again, some more: fiction.)

Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a perfect example. The more we see him secretly growing to respect and then love Buffy, who we as the audience respect and love, the more we’ll give him a pass for. (To a point. I’ll never forgive season six.)

Love so often feels like life or death. To craft a good supernatural killer romance, it needs to be actual life or death. Whether that means a vampire giving up blood or eternal life to be with the one they love, or an innocent willing to damn themself so they won’t be parted from their soulmate, we need commitment. We need sacrifice. And we need all the delicious torment on the way to getting those two things.

In The Fox and the Devil, as Anneke learns more about Diavola, she has to question everything she thought she knew—including her relationship with her own father. Can she ever forgive Diavola for that first, most terrible murder? That’s the question at the heart of their tortured romance.

Most of us like to take field trips into the darkness. While the stakes need to feel real, they don’t have to be perfectly realistic. Would I want to be with someone who murdered my father and potentially dozens more people? No. I really like my dad.

But would I want to write a dramatic scene where a murderer rescues her intrepid pursuer from a monster, carrying her out of the flames and laying her on a park bench before gently warning her to stay away? Yes! Anchoring your story in real feelings—lust and fear and even tenderness—allows readers to throw actual realism to the wind and enjoy getting carried away in a deeply ill-advised love affair for a few hundred pages.

By injecting real emotions into over-the-top stakes and situations, we can convince our readers to embrace a supernatural killer love interest. In the end, what is love if not giving someone else the power to destroy you and hoping they choose not to?

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