Kiss of the Demon Girl
Contaminated Souls Book 1
Eddie R. Hicks
Kiss of the Demon Girl
Book 1
By Eddie R. Hicks
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Copyright © 2018 Eddie R. Hicks
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This novel contains scenes of graphic violence, explicit language and sexuality and is intended for mature readers.
Cover Art by: Ravven
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Wrath of the Demon Girl
Afterword
About the Author
Chapter One
You know that feeling when you’re being followed?
I was feeling it hardcore the moment I got on that bus.
It was after midnight. Two people on the bus, three if you count the driver. I was up front with my legs stretched out across the seat. I was acting like I owned the ride. Behind me was a shady man, watching my every move. He got on at the same stop I did and five bucks says he gets off at my stop as well. Here’s hoping I’m wrong, but this is New York City, creepy men like that are always looking to hunt cute women like me that travel alone.
I signaled as my stop neared, got up, and moved toward the front exit of the bus, while I kept track of my stalker in the back. The bus stopped, and he got up and slithered his way to the back door. What a surprise, it was his stop too. How convenient! I sighed. It was going to be one of those nights.
I walked down the darkened sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan, Hell’s Kitchen, as the streetlamps shone their orange glow down on the street. As I expected Mister Shady followed me back to my apartment. I kept my face forward for the most part. I wanted him to think I was oblivious to his presence. I saw my shadow on the sidewalk, it was just me, no other shadows so he wasn’t close to me. I kept a close eye on my shadow as it would be the only heads-up I’d get if he decided to make his move. I wanted him to gain the confidence he needed to strike me, I needed to know his motives. Rapist or… something else? The former I wasn’t worried about, the latter, yeah… yeah, I really hoped it was the former.
I neared the old rickety building I called home, but I kept on walking. Maybe I was being stupidly paranoid, and if that was the case he might turn into the apartment to head to his place. Nope, his ass kept on moving, kept on following me. I stopped in front of a four-way intersection and waited for the 'don’t walk' lights to change.
He was gaining on me.
I pulled my phone out and acted as if I was going to take a selfie. I used the screen as a mirror to see what was behind me. Japanese girl, short dyed blonde hair, dark eye shadow, looking like a hot, sexy j-rock star, that’s me. Man, with a thick black coat and hood over his head, that’s Mister Shady the stalker. His footsteps began to pick up the pace as he realized this was his chance to close the distance.
The light changed, and the heels of my black leather boots clicked as I moved across. I found a dark alley a minute after I crossed the road, totally a safe place for a lone gal to walk into with a man following her, right? Garbage bags and rats littered the alley, the lighting was minimal, the apartment buildings adjacent had a few opened windows, no lights though, the people inside were fast asleep, or so I hoped.
I stopped and waited for Mister Shady to make his next move. He entered behind me with his hands jammed into his pocket. He wasn’t a rapist, most of those assholes would have gotten stiff at the easy opportunity that fell into their hands. This guy… he was like the others, bold, focused, and probably packing heat.
“Well shit, you got me,” I said, facing him.
He examined me from head to toe, then reached for his knife or pistol. Hell, I wasn’t paying attention. All I knew was, he had a weapon, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of drawing it. A surge of adrenaline flowed through my body, waking a force inside me that I didn’t understand. It was like a beast was within me, and it wanted out, it wanted me to kill him where he stood. It gave me powers, well, let’s call them talents: special talents.
I ran at him, leaped, and planted the heel of my boot into his chest, the impact sent his ass flying backward. He didn’t stay down but got back to his feet as quickly as I sent him down. We got physical after that, me keeping his arms up and away from his hidden weapons as we rolled and wrestled. He was strong, I’ll give him that. And I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to keep up the struggle. That’s when my talents kicked in.
His head lunged in to deliver a head butt. The sizzling sound of flesh burning came next followed by his cry of pain. An aura of flames enveloped my body, probably hot enough to cook a steak. I was a walking mini-barbeque and his face looked as though he face-planted straight onto the grill. He staggered back, rubbing his burned face. I could tell by the hatred burning in his eyes that he wasn’t going to back down. It was that realization that caused the flaming aura around me to retreat into my fists, that looked as though they were ablaze, and that I used to punch him in the chest.
His body erupted into flames as he stumbled around like a drunk before collapsing, this time for good. I took a knee next to his face, my body didn’t flinch at the billowing smoke rising away from his body, or the smell of his clothes and flesh burning.
With what little life he had in his body, he clasped his hands around my wrist as his lips struggled to mutter his last words. “What… are… you?”
“I don’t know.” It was a truthful answer. I might as well give his ass one since he was going to die anyways.
I felt his grip around my wrists loosen, and with that the beast within me calmed as my talents faded. No more flames on my hands, no burning aura around me, I looked like a regular woman. Only hotter. I speed dialed the most commonly called number on my cell phone. Three rings later, no answer. He’d better pick it up, this is not the time for him to be sleeping.
“Hello?” Thank fuck, he answered.
“Jim,” I whispered. “It happened again.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Take a guess…”
“You need to be careful, Reika!”
“I was.” I looked down at the smoldering body as I triumphantly placed the foot of my boot on his head. “He’s not pissing me off any more.”
“Just the one this time?”
“Yeah, I’ll text you the address, not far from my place.”
“I’ll be there in a few. You know this will cost extra, right?”
<
br /> “Put it on my tab.”
The call ended, and I replaced my phone with a pack of cigarettes. I pulled one out and lit it with the flaming body below. Come on, how badass was that? On that note… I reached out and grabbed hold of a nearby garbage bag and beat his body with it to put out the flames the best I could. No need for the locals to call the fire department, though something told me I might be too late. I indulged in my nicotine fix then.
After all that shit, and the nonsense I had to put up with at work today, I’d earned it.
Chapter Two
A white van parked next to the alley entrance where I stood watch over the crispy corpse of Mister Shady. The van looked like those typical ones you see on TV and movies, you know with no windows in the rear, tinted windows upfront, with a mysterious figure leaping out from the back doors. Well not so mysterious to me, it was none other than Jim.
Jim was a cleaner, fixer, gun for hire whatever… he was a good guy, always around to take care of sticky situations. He worked for the highest bidder usually. The Triads, Yakuza, Russian, Italian, and Irish mobs that made their homes in this city. Your assassin left a bloody mess after a hit? Jim could clean that up. Needed someone taken care of but didn’t want to send your own men to do it? Call up Jim. Need some info? Jim’s your guy. Need a dead body removed before the cops showed? Well, you get the picture, and hopefully the reason why I was so happy to see him arrive fast. Mister Shady needed to vanish, the flames, the smell of his body, him crying like a little bitch when I ended him?
Someone in the apartments above must have called 911 by now.
Jim approached, wearing a black suit and tie, with matching leather gloves and shades. It went well with his thin, well-shaped beard and black, slicked hair. I dashed my cigarette in the corner as he knelt to look at my kill. Those shades on his face… it was tough to tell if he was impressed or surprised.
“What did you do? Torch him to death?” he asked.
“Had to make sure he was dead.” Jim didn’t know of my talents; truth was, few did… like this guy. And another that came after me two weeks ago.
Jim grabbed the still-smoking arms of Mister Shady. “Give me a hand will ya?”
I did my part and picked the body up by the legs. Together, we moved quickly toward his van, tossing the corpse inside, it thudded onto the van’s rear floor. I looked across the road and back behind; nobody saw us. Well nobody I was aware of at least. Two soft shots from Jim’s silenced pistol went off, shrouding us in darkness. He’d shot out the streetlights above, rather swiftly I might add, and I didn’t even notice him turn around to do it.
“Let’s go,” I said, slamming the back doors to his van shut.
Jim was kind enough to drive me back home and thank god he did. Police and fire trucks showed up two minutes later. I gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder for a job well done and went to take my leave. He grabbed onto my slim shoulder, holding me back.
“Reika, is this going to be a regular thing?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, I hope not. It’s kinda getting annoying.”
“Want me to do the usual vanishing act with the body or…?”
“Eh, I want answers. See if you can find anything useful first before you dump a shitload of acid over his body.”
“So… you remember when I said this will be extra?”
“I’ll get you your money, you know I’m good.”
“Hey now, I trust you. Just you know, don’t do anything stupid. You do need to pay your rent and all.”
“Like selling meth?”
“Yeah that kind of stupid, it nearly got you killed.”
I gave him a dejected frown and left his van. I really didn’t need the reminder of what happened a few months ago when I lost Isamu. I strode into the elevator that took me to my tenth-floor suite. My place wasn’t anything to get excited over, shitty bed, shitty fridge that struggled to keep things cool, a couch full of patches, and a TV in the living room. It was the best I could do now. Isamu had a lovely place until it got shot-the-fuck up by the cops and the Yakuza during a drug raid.
I crashed on the couch for the night. The downside of using my talents, it really saps the life out of me with no means of recovering it, well outside of sleep. Even then, I’m pretty damn sure that’s just a placebo. Don’t be surprised if one day I just fall over dead. Least of my worries right now, what I really need to figure out was earning enough cash to pay off the rising debt to Jim. Right now, he’s doing all this out of the goodness of his heart, he felt sorry for me ending up in the life that I’m in now.
The morning sunrise lit up my apartment suite. Horrible sunlight… My clock reported the time to be 11:34 a.m… way too early to be awake. I didn’t need to be at work until 6 p.m. The joys of night shift work. I got my ass up from the couch and sluggishly dragged my body into my bedroom where I would probably have slept better. The second my head hit the pillow, a knock came thumping on my front door.
For fuck’s sake.
The knock came again, loud and firm. The hand of a cop, it had to be.
I chucked my pillow across the room and forced my sleep deprived body to open the door. Didn’t even bother to look through the peephole, I knew exactly who it was. And you know what? I didn’t give a fuck, I got fancy talents now, I dare the cops to try and take me downtown, I double dog dare them!
The door swung open, the squeaks in its hinges cried out for some WD40 as I saw the person that knocked.
Boy was I wrong.
Tall and handsome. A black man, grey trench coat, clean shaven, short buzzed hair with an NYPD badge in his hands. Okay half-wrong.
“Good morning, I’m detective Gabe Wilson, NYPD.”
I grunted. “Sup.”
“Reika Araya I presume?”
“Yeah that’s probably me.”
“May I come in? I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
If I say no will you go away? That’s what I wanted to say, but I’ve been a bad girl, and I need to bullshit my way out of this. I allowed him to enter, he walked around clearly unimpressed at my place of residence to judge by his grimacing face.
He took his time to ask his questions, probably looking for something I shouldn’t have. It’s all good, he can look all he wants. I got nothing in here of value other than a katana on a display holder in my room and some beer in the fridge. Oh, that reminded me. I grabbed a cold one… err warm one from the fridge. As the fridge door shut, I gave it a swift kick. The fridge usually works better after I kick it.
“Staying out of trouble, Miss?”
I cracked the can of beer open and downed a large gulp. So refreshing. I offered Gabe one. The shake of his head and hands sent a clear message. “Thanks, but I’m still on duty,” he said. “But I’ll take a cigarette if you have one.”
Whatever, a single smoke is cheaper than a can of beer anyways. I tossed him a pack of smokes, and he took one out before handing the pack back to me. “Is that all you came here for?” I asked as he looked at the cigarette.
“Residents in a complex not far from here reported hearing a struggle; seeing and smelling fire.”
Shit, how did I get linked? I thought we were good. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“A white van apparently left the scene. And according to the people I talked to in this building, some claimed to have seen a white van parked outside right around the time of the incident.”
“Wait.” I had to stop him, something didn’t make sense. “No crimes were committed, why would you guys care about this?”
“We didn’t until this address became a part of the search.”
“And this address is important because?”
“Because someone with links to the Yakuza lives here.” He pointed to my tattoo clad arms, obtained when I was dating Isamu and kind of was a member as a result.
“Isamu is dead along with that life I was a part of. You can thank your coworkers for that.”
“You positive now?”
“Track me if you want. Getting shot in that crossfire left me bedridden for a while with survivor’s guilt. I’m done with that life.”
“Whoever was at the scene last night,” he tossed the cigarette back at me, and I caught it with my free hand, “smoked the same stuff you do.” I downed the rest of my beer as panic paralyzed my ability to think properly. Crime labs would be able to detect I was the one smoking that cigarette which they no doubt have sealed up in some evidence bag.
“It’s not like I’m the only one in the city that buys this brand.”
“That’s true. In any case, we’re going to run some tests on it. So, if there is anything else you’d like to add, now’s the time to do it.”
I said nothing and did nothing other than keep my composure. He ended up leaving with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. I was doomed. The hospital I stayed at doubtless had enough stuff on me on their records for them to do a DNA test and link me to that cigarette. If I had the funds I would have sent a fixer to fix his ass right then and there. But I didn’t. Yay me, three problems to deal with, paying Jim, answering to the cops when they find out I was there last night, and solving the mystery as to why shady men kept attacking me.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my cell and dialed Jim’s number right away. Hopefully he was awake. I did dump new jobs for him to do. He picked up.
“Jim, what the fuck.”
“Eh?”
“Cops were here. I know it was a rushed clean-up job but still…”
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