by Fox Lancet
In a blinding turn, Hunter had the man’s wrist cracking beneath his grip, the knife turned on its owner. He could not help but smile maliciously into the man’s panicked face.
“On drugs are we?” Hunter whispered.
The man’s head shuttered side to side in answer. One of Hunter’s black brows bounced up in interest at the gesture. “So you claim to have chosen to thieve from me through rational logic?” He did not wait for an answer. “You deserve life even less than the rest.”
The man’s knife, still in his own grasp yet his wrist in Hunter’s control, plunged into the thickest artery coursing through his neck. The man released a gurgling response, and when Hunter pulled the knife from the man’s throat, a fountain of red blood gushed from the ruined flesh. It splashed across Hunter’s exposed shoulder and face. He basked in the warm fluid as it dripped down his bare skin, his dulled fangs pushing to white points. As he ran his tongue across his bottom lip in satisfaction, hot blood fell from his cheek, meeting the wet muscle.
The moment the blood touched his tongue, his eyes flashed red and it took the little control he did have to snatch the black and white bandanna from his back pocket, before darting for the main street and out of the shadows. He knotted the piece of cloth behind his head, the white picture on the material forming the bottom half of a human skull over the bottom half of his face. The disguise probably made no difference; his M.O.—eyes and tattoos—was known to the humans of the immediate area. Though, now that he and Syler had been reunited with their Lord, and they had possession of the key, he knew they would be abandoning the area very soon, if not tonight.
A scream impaled the rusty night as he thrust a dagger up into a woman’s back, dragging it up further to ensure it met her heart. The man who had been accompanying her had but a second to register the attack before Hunter was already relieving the dagger and inserting it into the man’s kidney, simultaneously whipping the black baseball cap from his head to don it.
After killing the couple, Hunter turned toward an alley furnished with three large, green dumpsters. He braced himself behind one and shoved the wheeled bin from between the buildings toward the street.
Once on the sidewalk, he gave the industrial trash bin a vicious kick. The force of the kick sent the dumpster rampaging across the sidewalk. When it tripped into the gutter from the curb, it fell end over end before it landed back on its wheels and ambled into the middle of the street.
Traffic screeched to a halt and horns blared. This pleased Hunter and he approached the nearest car, leaping over the hood. The human inside scuttled into the backseat as Hunter came to the driver’s window and shattered it with his elbow. He reached in and pressed the manual trunk lever. When the trunk popped, he twisted toward the back end of the car to rummage through random junk before extricating a crow bar and tire iron. As he did, the driver pushed through the back door to abandon his car.
Hunter glowered, his half-grin obscured by the bandana, and tossed the bloodied dagger at the base of the man’s skull. The victim’s body collapsed like a ragdoll.
After the dagger left his hand, Hunter turned his attention toward the vehicles trapped behind the dumpster.
Many were trying to retreat, but vehicles behind them were disrupting the attempt. He broke the next car’s windshield with one swipe of the crowbar. It was a family of five seated in a minivan. The male driver bailed quickly from the car, the woman remaining paralyzed in the passenger seat, her three children in the back either unaware or stunned.
He propped his feet on the front bumper to lean in and jerk the mother from the seat. The seatbelt denied him. A snarl of agitation ripped from him when the action did not allow his intent. In turn, he released her, the belt sucking her back to the seat. When she hit, he grabbed her head and snapped her neck. The children screamed.
Hunter was accosted suddenly by an amateur tackle. It was the husband of the minivan, whose woman he had just killed. Instead of growling, he laughed genuinely at the man’s attempt at revenge or defense: whatever it was meant to be, he should have been fleeing. He brought up a hard knee into the man’s ribcage. The man gasped and coughed, falling to the asphalt.
As his assailant crumbled, sirens breached the air. Hunter frowned mechanically, knowing it was inevitable, but had hoped for more blood first. He glanced about, the sound still distant, witnesses obsolete, having run in fear. Bringing up a heavy foot, he brought it down to crush the man’s skull. He basked in the sound and feel of solid bone giving way beneath his strength, but when he went for the sliding door of the minivan, he stopped, the sirens threatening with their nearness. Hunter cursed and took his leave of the scene.
As he crossed the nose of the mini-van, he took a moment to scan the survivors who had escaped his raid. His eyes flashed, the red pulsing from the spilled blood, and fell on three children who were all under the age of fifteen. He glowered before looking away and racing back toward the net of shadows calling to him from the tightly woven buildings.
He ran down slimy alleys, putting as much distance between him and the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. The further he traveled into the neighborhood of warehouses and steel and scrap yards, the more prevalent the darkness became. Hunter reveled in its arms. Warm blood dried on his open skin in the moving air. He felt renewed.
The sound of sirens had long since dissipated and Hunter made an effort to replay the sounds of pain and death in his head as he slowed to a ravenous gait.
To deceive any witnesses, Hunter had run southwest through industrialization and into a primarily commercial part of town. He clung to deep shadows to avoid new witnesses.
After moving in the wrong direction for two miles, he cut back through a crammed trailer park and headed north. There was little bustling life in the park. Orange and yellow lights hummed quietly on the corners of the rusting trailers. It was not late enough in the evening for humans to be sleeping and Hunter could hear the flick of lighters and clinks of bottles behind the thin walls of the makeshift homes. Drug addicts and alcoholics.
Just before he emerged on the other end of the trailer park, Hunter had to check his urge to crash a small party of six humans collected around a small fire, mumbling and chuckling absently, dark brown beer bottles dangling from each of their hands. But the repercussions of attacking them rolled through his mind. Emergency calls would be made, authorities would pin point his location, trail and direction.
Growling in frustration, Hunter scaled the tall, disheveled wall surrounding the park, arriving back in another industrial sweep of the city. He pulled the skull bandanna from his face and sucked in a deep breath.
After traversing through more darkness, back roads, and empty construction yards for a couple of miles, Hunter found himself half-clambering, half-jumping up and over a chain link fence dressed at its pinnacle with barbed wire. He began zigzagging through a passenger-train yard.
Just before he came to the giant, aluminum hangar in the center, guarded by numerous white train cars with generous windows, Hunter came to an abrupt stop. He shifted his weight onto one booted foot and craned his neck. The gasping moans of lovers in-sync wafted through the air. A grin curled onto his face. He slithered between two train cars, and then again. He came out of the third crevice slowly, his eyes falling on the outdoor display. Something humans did on occasion to supposedly spice up a degenerating relationship.
Coming up on them from behind, Hunter made a slow approach, enjoying the show. The woman’s delicate hands were braced on the corner of a steel train car. A pleased sigh drained from her unseen mouth. Her lily skin was exposed to the clear night air. A purple summer dress was slung carelessly across the nearby train tracks. Her lover’s hands were clasped tightly to her hips as he plunged in and out of her, releasing his own pleasured sigh every so often. He was propped determinedly behind her, legs spread, jeans crumbled around his knees.
Creeping up behind the distracted pair, Hunter relieved a knife from his belt and threw it open. In a sw
ift movement, he clamped a hand over the man’s mouth while simultaneously pulling the man out of his woman and slitting his throat. Blood splayed across the woman’s naked back briefly before Hunter turned the man away, aiming the spout toward the concrete. He lowered the man quickly but silently to the ground, not wanting to alarm the woman. She responded as he had hoped.
“Aw, Tyler, you finished?” She had mistaken the warm spray of blood as the man’s climax. Just as she went to look over her shoulder, Hunter latched onto the back of her neck, keeping her eyes from roaming to him. With his free hand, he relieved his hard-on from his pants and immediately shoved it into the woman’s readied pocket.
Hunter stifled a sigh and smiled. She squealed in surprise, but the sound was followed by confused silence.
After a few thrusts, he moved his hand from her neck and grabbed her hips to lift her to his height so he would not have to bend to enter her. The change of position allowed her upper body free movement and further revealed her change in lover, as Hunter was much taller and stronger than the other man had been.
She turned at her waist, bracing her right arm on the train car to keep herself up.
Hunter met her eyes, expecting a scream. He did not stop in his indulgence.
Instead of screaming, her jaw went slack and she gaped at him. He smiled and pushed into her further. An inescapable moan left her, but the fear that had crept into her eyes did not dissipate. Hunter pinched his tongue between his teeth, his smile remaining. Sliding out of her, he twirled her around and moved into her with his shoulder.
He finally felt her feeble resistance. She pushed at him with her tiny arms, fingertips digging into his shoulders.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Keeping her elevated, he pressed her back into cold steel and his cock climbed back up into her smoothly. A shaky breath fell from her mouth, across Hunter’s neck. He had made sure to place her head over his left shoulder so she could not see the fresh carcass of her lover. Having his way with a frantic woman was not what he was looking for at the moment.
“Please stop,” she whispered again. He could feel warm tears sliding down his neck and under his shirt. Another breathy sigh betrayed her.
The woman gave another weak push. He loosened the pressure of his body against her slightly and began to mouth her velvet neck and shoulder. Women were so soft, like no man could even wish to imitate, which they had evidently tried in this world. His teeth had sharpened with the intense pleasure of sex and the tips grazed her smoothness without breaking the skin. She gasped, nails biting at one of his biceps and one of his traps.
When he felt his finality warming inside, he relaxed even further, in turn becoming ravenous. He clutched at one of her ample breasts, holding her weight with one arm. A deep sigh broke from him and he shoved himself into her as far as he would go. She shut her eyes and he pulled his body away from her, moving a hand to her tiny rib cage and the other to the back of her shoulder to force her down on him so there was no going further. She screamed. Hunter growled and yelled a wordless cry as his climax burst from him.
He continued a subtle in-and-out movement to extend the pleasure of the moment, his cock throbbing magnificently. The woman’s own climax poured around his hilt and soaked into the top of his black jeans. She breathed in heavy gasps, eyes still shut. Grey tears ran trails down her flushed cheeks.
Bending to one knee, he slowly lowered the woman to the ground and off of his cock. She had served him his will; his thanks would be in leaving her with her life.
He hid his cock back in his pants while the woman instinctually curled up to cover herself and reached for her dress. She sniveled and her body shuddered. Once she had retrieved her dress, her notice finally found the original man she had been with.
Now she screamed.
She had been mere inches from the pool of blood forming around his corpse. Jumping to her feet, she clung to her dress. She continued screaming.
Hunter clenched his teeth in irritation. Stepping forward, he grabbed her by her throat, cutting off her air to silence her. She looked up at him, eyes glazed and wide in desperate fear. He glanced at the man’s dead body.
“I have opted not to take your life. However, I will be persuaded to change my mind if you do not quit that racket.” Giving her a moment to dwell on his words, he waited before finally letting go. She gasped in a hungry breath then whimpered, moving away from him on shaky legs.
Hunter picked up his blade, wiped it on his pants, and snapped it shut. The woman stared at him from several feet away.
“Tell no one you saw me here. If you do, I will hunt you down, maim, and kill you. And trust me when I claim that it is a task I more than enjoy performing, so do not underestimate the threat.” Hunter turned and headed back toward the hangar to complete crossing the train yard. Giving one last glance at her over his shoulder, he let the red flare in his eyes before picking up his booted feet and exiting at a steady jog.
He had wasted more time than he had meant to by detouring to sate more than just his bloodlust. Several times over the period he spent alone with Saliea, he had to check his urge to make her bleed or to fuck her, just to keep himself entertained. But he knew Syler had been right and he had not wanted to displease Nefarion. Seeing his Lord’s demure before reacquainting with the key, he knew the Lord would have been furious had he performed any of his desires upon her. Not that he desired her at all. The woman was infuriating. Constantly griping at him. Perhaps she would become more bearable now that Nefarion was present.
When he finally came with in distance of the warehouse, he could see that Syler was still where he had left him. His comrade sensed his approach and turned, sniffing the air.
“You reek of woman. I thought you went to shed blood. Though, I see you accomplished that too. You look like a massacre. I hope you stayed hidden from view.”
“Who do you take me for? Of course the shadows were my only company, besides the woman I happened upon on my return.” Hunter scraped his short nails over his cheek, flaking away dried blood.
Syler was crouched on the curb, glaring up at Hunter disdainfully.
“Oh, quit being envious and relax.”
“Envious? Of what, carelessness and unnecessary self-indulgence?”
Hunter rolled his eyes so heavily his head swiveled with the action. “You are such a fucking straight-edge, Syler. Learn to please yourself.”
“Straight-edge? What is this? Self-pleasure diminishes control and focus. It is damaging.” Syler stood, spitting in the gutter beside Hunter’s chunky boots. Hunter glared after the liquid.
“Why can you not just request details or insist on coming along, like a true Demon: wreak havoc and destruction. Or what these humans call sin.”
“Like a true Demon? Are you attempting to insult me, Hunter?”
“Attempting? I am! You are a pussy who only wishes to please his Lord. You may as well be a fag.”
Syler shook his head in frustration and anger, not completely aware of the meaning of all the human insults Hunter threw at him. “I do not recognize how these words are attributed to me, but I can only assume if I knew, I would want to tear your fucking throat out, you reckless fuck.” Syler took a long stride forward, closing most of the distance between them. Hunter’s eyebrow twitched; surprised at Syler’s use of multiple profanities.
“They probably would. Pussy is what a girl has instead of a dick, and a fag is a man who only likes to put his cock in other men,” Hunter offered maliciously.
This sent Syler over the edge. His eyes burst red and he lunged at his cohort with a roar. Hunter found himself pinned to concrete, Syler’s fangs snapping half an inch from his nose. The light of his eyes washed over the elevated bones of his face, leaving deep shadows in the contours. Hunter repressed a smile, Syler already at a level of anger that he did not wish to encourage.
“Why must you test me, Hunter?” His voice fell from his throat in a guttural roll, a rare second rumble accompanying it. Syler clu
tched at the collar of Hunter’s already ripped shirt, tearing it further.
“Because it entertains me and the foolishness of your attitude displeases me and I wish to voice it.”
Syler’s fist crushed a dent into the concrete beside Hunter’s head, sending up a small billow of gray dust. A piece of the stone shrapnel lanced into his cheek. Hunter’s eyes puckered playfully, the corners of his mouth tightening, but not quite turning up in a smile.
“I will fucking break you, daft creature,” the double voice spilled from Syler’s fanged mouth again.
“Let me have it, fag.” Finally Hunter let his smile show and he shoved a knee between them, throwing his enraged comrade into the shadows down the sidewalk.
Not a second longer than it took him to jump back to his feet was Syler slamming into him again. Hunter snarled, but smiled uncontrollably. This was one emotion he knew he could always evoke in Syler, to test his strength and reflexes since the Demon refused to cater to his own needs, the same needs that also exercised his skills.
He felt his own eyes brighten instinctually as he rolled with Syler, dodging the angry Demon’s razored teeth. Finally he was able to shove his palm up into his cohort’s jaw, snapping his teeth together with an uncomfortable clack. Instead of stunning or distracting him, the action triggered his hand to jerk to Hunter’s throat.
Their rolling had come to a halt with Hunter on top. He sneered down into Syler’s eyes, fortunately not purple yet. Hunter punched the elbow of the arm that had his neck in a vice. The bone popped loudly and Syler roared, his grip falling languidly to the sidewalk. With his good hand and his entire body strength, Syler threw Hunter off of him. He pushed to his feet, into a crouch. Hunter mimicked the action.
Neither attacked the other; four feet seething between them. Syler threw his injured arm out, another popping resounding. It was healed.
Both of their bodies heaved with the quick and sudden exertion of the fight.
“Done with me already?” One of Hunter’s brows teased up in question.