Deception of the Demon Girl

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were asleep at their daughter’s bed when I returned. It was the perfect chance for me to leave the backpack with them, full of the cash and the bracelet. There should be enough money in there to get better medical care, on top of the insurance money that’s going to come.

  I moved away from the room silently, vanishing behind the sliding doors to the elevator of the hospital. I was ready to call it a night from my day as the protector of New York City.

  So … did you all miss me? Because I missed you.

  Welcome back.

  Chapter Two

  I hate mornings.

  Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone in the city does, especially during the week, since the sun rising means it’s time for your ass to get the fuck up and go to work. My reasons for the hate are different, as you probably could imagine. The sun rising, casting its light on my naked and resting body was just Mother Nature laughing at me for pulling yet another all-nighter, keeping the streets of the city free of demonic activity, and dumb motherfuckers that think it’s cool to work with them.

  If I wasn’t so fucking lazy, I’d have curtains installed for my bedroom window that’s letting in all the daytime sunlight. Or sleep at another safe house, I had many to choose from now. But … I liked this one the most, the one I suckered the Yakuza into giving me. You know, that big ass penthouse palace Kojima had. Yep, that’s the place I crashed for the night, and have been for the last several weeks.

  The place was a palace in the sky, and my bedroom window gave me the best view of the urban jungle that made up the city. I got up from my comfy bed, leaving the two men that I shared it with the previous night to rest.

  A half-empty bottle of Hennessey greeted me on my way to the floor to ceiling window. You better believe I grabbed that sucker and downed it as I stood next to the window naked; the sunlight illuminated a Yakuza bodysuit of tattoos.

  That was the great thing about being this high up, nobody could see my pussy and tits hanging out like it wasn’t a big deal or ask questions as to why there was dried blood splattered down the middle of my chest, the only part of my body that lacked tattoos, so the flesh could breathe.

  It wasn’t my blood of course, but the thought of having someone else’s smeared and dried blood crusted on you all night did seem kind of gross. A shower was in order. My bottle of Hennessey hit the nightstand, I promised it I’d come back to it when I was done.

  My washroom was probably the most expensive and luxurious one in the city, and that thought put a nice smirk on my face while I washed the blood off of my body. Just a year ago I was in that shithole of an apartment that sometimes had hot water, and sometimes didn’t for showers. It’s amazing how fast life changes when you become a half-succubus. Just demand what you want from people, or you’ll do bad things to them, and you’ll get it.

  My washroom was overflowing with mist when I exited the glass-covered stand-up shower. Two members of the Yakuza lowered their heads, performing a traditional Japanese bow, then offered towels and robes, all for little old me. I was their queen now, and they followed my every instruction, like removing the naked bodies of the two men from my bed with multiple stabbing gashes on their chests, the source of the blood that was on me.

  Keeping my promise, I returned to my bottle of booze, and then noticed the crimson-soaked enchanted dagger on my nightstand, the weapon I used to end the lives of the two men. Well, technically they were already dead after the rough sex we had last night, the penalty of fucking a succubus like me. The dagger was to ensure they didn’t get possessed, as the blood of Lilith still flowed through my veins.

  “I won’t ask.”

  I looked at my bedroom window to see the reflection of Emily standing at my door. I turned to face her, taking a swig of my drink, then asked, “How long have you been here for?”

  “Just got here,” Emily said, looking away from me as I faced her. “And judging by the tone of your voice, you weren’t expecting me to be here?”

  My hands went to tie up the front of my robe, no point on wearing it when it was still open, letting my goods hang out for all to see. And I sure as fuck knew Emily didn’t want to see it, why else would she have looked away from me?

  My mouth was denied the rest of the tasty drink I thought was in my bottle. Turns out it was empty. The kitchen should have more, so I left my room seeking it. Emily followed behind, grimacing at the two naked men, as their bodies got wrapped up in a black plastic tarp to be disposed of.

  “Fine, Reika, don’t answer me,” Emily snapped.

  “Was a rough night.”

  “Same for me,” she spat. “You didn’t tell me you were spending the night at this safe house.”

  “You’re a big kitty; you can handle life without me for a night.”

  “It’s been three nights. You haven’t called since the last job or gotten back to our list of new clients that piled up.”

  That last bit made me stop at the kitchen, processing her words, making my eyes narrow at the shock of the discovery.

  “Three nights …?” I said slowly.

  Was it really that long since we finished the Taylor’s case?

  “Yes, three fucking nights, Reika,” Emily said, and entered the kitchen ahead of me, rummaging through the fridge. Her tail moved in sync with the speed of her hands. “And we’re out of food at the other safe house.”

  A decent-sized grin appeared on my face. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Emily’s twisted lips when she turned away from the fridge empty-handed.

  “So, that’s why you came here?” I asked.

  “I’m starving,” she said, frustrated. “Feed me!”

  Emily’s face and thieving hands went back to the fridge, sifting through its contents, discovering it was partially empty in the process. The only thing in there was Tupperware containers my Yakuza bodyguards brought for lunch.

  There was a loud thud that echoed when her fist hit the side of the fridge door. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “You won’t find anything in there,” I said, moving next to her.

  She pulled out one of my bodyguard’s lunch. I knocked it the fuck out of her hands, tossing it back into the fridge. “That’s not for you.”

  The fridge door slammed shut, and Emily went to poke through my mostly empty garbage. “What the fuck have you been eating—”

  The Yakuza men dressed in their spiffy suits passed by the kitchen via the halls, dragging out the two bodies, dumping them wherever the fuck they dump the dead out in the city. Emily grimaced hard, looking away from the wrapped-up bodies, then looked up at me.

  “Never mind,” she said. “You’ve been feeding off humans I see.”

  Shrugging, I took a seat at the dinner table. “Those assholes were fixers that tried to ambush me last night. The Russians upped the price on my head.”

  “So why didn’t you just pop them and be done with it?”

  “Because—”

  “Don’t answer that, I already know,” Emily said, cutting me off. “You’re embracing your succubus half too much, you see humans as food rather than people.”

  “That’s not true. You know I have a hard time recharging my Umbral now without… well, you know.”

  I made a finger in the hole sexual gesture with my hands to get the point across. Though, the shocker hand gesture would have been more appropriate. I had two guys in my bed, and my succubus half wasn’t in the mood for a tag team session. I got DPed last night, and it was fucking lit. My body was fully charged, ready for whatever challenges my enemies threw at me.

  Since my awakening, my magical talents require more Umbral energy to use, meaning it takes longer for it to naturally recharge. Sex refuels my reserves faster, consuming the aroused souls of men or women, converting it not only into Umbral energy but nutrients to keep my body going.

  “Like I said before, Reika,” Emily said, joining me at the table. “You need to watch yourself. You’re entering a dangerous lifestyle.”

 
“I’m fine, it works out perfectly,” I said while reclining back on my chair. “They attack me, I have to use my talents to defend myself, and then I feed on them to restore my power. The alternative is, I don’t feed and have less Umbral energy to use during my next ambush. Then I’m fucked.”

  “And if they turn to demons quickly, then what?”

  Being a succubus had risks of course. Risks Emily wouldn’t stop reminding me of. My body was contaminated with demonic blood—Lilith’s blood if you want to be exact. Anyone coming into contact with my blood or stopping to play a game of hide the weasel with me, got their souls contaminated, making them prime real-estate for demonic possession. Hence the enchanted dagger I had in my room. Everyone that shares an orgasm with me dies when I eat their soul, then gets stabbed the fuck up with my dagger to discourage demons from taking the body.

  “I off ‘em with that dagger I keep on me,” I explained.

  “One day you’re going to fuck someone, they’re going to get possessed instantly, and take you out before you reach for that dagger.”

  “Okay, mom …” I said, rolling my eyes. “Anything else?”

  “Stop being a succubus slut—”

  “Get fucked.”

  “I miss the old Reika.”

  Emily had more to say, not sure what it was as I got up and left her ass alone in the kitchen. I was pretty pissed off that she called me that. I was just doing what nature intended of me, now that I’ve become less human and more, demon. Succubi fed off the souls of the people they played with in the bedroom. Yeah, they died, but that’s just the way things were. Unless of course, you were a fellow demon, the only people that could survive our lust, the fae too, whatever the fuck those were.

  And you want to know what the best part of this new lifestyle was? The amount of money I save on not having to go grocery shopping. All I need was a brave hit man to come for me, and then I hit them with my lure and charm. After that, nothing could stop them from dropping their pants when I demand it.

  Chapter Three

  I had to cancel my plans for the day, which was getting drunk by noon.

  Emily’s reveal that I had been off the grid for three days meant I’ve been neglecting our PI business and new clients. I still had bills to pay, and the tribute the Yakuza gave me wasn’t enough to cover everything.

  Since Jim’s disappearance, I’ve found myself having to maintain and pay the rent on his safe houses throughout the city. Not sure what became of him, but it caused me to form a fucking terrible habit of checking my phone daily to see if he called or texted me, and then me calling and texting him.

  As usual, there was no reply—

  “Eyes on the road,” Emily spat, yanking my phone out from my grip with her nimble hands.

  “Fuck off.”

  Okay, I was driving while texting while we traversed the clustered morning rush hour streets of the big apple, so sue me. When the red light flashed green, I hit the gas and pushed onward.

  “Jim, eh?” Emily said, reading my phone’s text log to him. “What became of him?”

  “Don’t know. He went to LA, said he’d call me back once he got off the plane and never did,” I said. “Been trying to get a hold of him for a while.”

  “Not replying to your calls or texts I see.”

  “Are you seriously going through my fucking phone?”

  “I am the only person in this car that has the right to use a phone while it’s still in operation, thank you very much. And yes,” she said while tapping the screen and scrolling through my messages. “Oh wow, that’s so sweet, you care about him.”

  “I’m being targeted by his coworkers, and he’s MIA.” I tried to grab the phone back before she found the pictures I’d sent him. Yeah, those kinds of pictures, if you know what I mean. Like I said, becoming a succubus brings out a whole new level of sexual energy you never knew you had. I gave up trying to take my phone back after four tries. Emily’s ninja reflexes were too fast. “I kinda need to know what fuck is going on.”

  “The Russians are paying top dollar for your death, and fixers are answering the call,” she said. “Isn’t that what fixers do? Work for whoever has the cash?”

  “There was a price on Jim’s head too.”

  “Oh.”

  “Keyword: was. There isn’t one anymore. He’s either dead or worked out a deal and switched sides—”

  “Gross!”

  Emily tossed my phone back into my lap cringing at me. Looking down I saw why. She made it to those pictures I sent him.

  “With raunchy selfies like that, I think Jim is dead,” she said.

  “Men only die when they fuck me.”

  “Any man that doesn’t reply to the pics you sent him is probably dead.”

  The most likely scenario was that Jim had dropped out of the criminal underground world, and hooked up with that woman who left him and began to live a normal honest life in sunny LA. So, I kept telling myself, I tried not to dwell on it, I was still driving. If you want to talk about distracted driving, look no further than your head pumping your mind full of thoughts of regret, thoughts of what Jim and I could have been if I wasn’t, as Emily put it, a succubus slut.

  Fuck, I’m never going to forgive her for saying that. Mark my words.

  We rolled up to our office an hour later than normal, thank you NYC traffic. You might remember this place as the safe house we made our home for the past year, that one that looked out into Central Park. Since I took over the Yakuza, I never spent much time here, so I had it converted into a legit PI office. Filing cabinets were in the corner, a chestnut computer desk sat in front of the window, and bookshelves full of books I’ve never read and have no plans on ever doing so were next to it.

  Of course, our bedrooms were still there, just in case we had to pull all-nighters. Though, I think I’m gonna have to come up with another term for all-nighters, because of my succubus nature.

  I took my chair at the desk, flipping open my laptop, checking emails and the like. Emily gave me a heads up on the piles of cases we had coming in for the last three days. Thanks to her shifter ninjutsu abilities and her thieving skills, Emily was able to learn more about our possible clients. She followed them as a cat and then broke into their homes. After the fuck up with Donovan, you can never be too sure on which cases to take and which to ignore. Throw in fixers trying to lure us out with fake cases, which turned out to be like 97 percent of the calls we got, and I say she was earning her fifty percent.

  We got a knock at the door while we were in the middle of sifting through the possible paranormal cases. A walk-in client, not good considering we don’t advertise where the office is, nor do we have a sign on the fucking door.

  I gave Emily a nod, as I went for the door. Her hands formed the quick ninjutsu mudra that saw her body melt away, turning into a tabby cat that leaped out from the pile of clothes that fell to the floor. She parked herself in the corner, curling up, and pretended to be a sleeping cat.

  If this was a fixer coming to make a hit, he’ll never know what got him from behind.

  A fixer didn’t walk through the door when I opened it, unless they started recruiting tall stunning supermodel women. Seriously, the woman that stepped through the door with her heels clicking was your classic old-school femme fatale, wearing expensive makeup, a captivating black dress with gloves and jewelry dangling with each step. Don’t get me started on her long brunette hair that traveled down her exposed back, evidently, the dress she wore was backless too. The perfume she wore left a noticeable and seductive aroma behind her as she moved further into the office. Then there was that smile, goddamn it, it got my inner succubus wet and hot.

  I won’t lie, I kind of wished Jim was here, just to see the reaction in his pants. This was a woman that could make any man kill for her, and she didn’t need any magical powers to do it, unlike me.

  “Miss Araya?” she asked me with her noticeable New York accent.

  “Right the first time.”

&nbs
p; “I require your services.”

  “Everyone that comes in here does.”

  I offered her a seat in front of my desk. She took it, placing her handbag on the floor next to her. I took my seat back in front of my laptop, pretending to type away. I’m supposed to be a busy PI, right?

  “Can everyone who comes in here offer the type of compensation I do?” she asked.

  I gave her a shrug and continued fiddling with my laptop. “If it’s money, then yeah.”

  “I offer that and more.”

  My eyebrow rose, as my gaze locked into hers. Fuck me, she was eye fucking me. I liked it. “Define more,” I finally spoke.

  “I can get the Russians to stop huntin’ you.”

  My interest was piqued.

  “I’m listening.”

  Chapter Four

  Our walk-in client revealed herself to be Alice Mancini and didn’t take the time to reveal how she knew this was our office, or how she knew we were in. After all, I was off for the last three days and originally had no plans to come in.

  Alice handed me a photo of a man that looked about her age; same hair color and the like, possibly a relative, or close personal friend. “I need you to find my brother, Giovanni,” she said, pointing to him on the photo. “He’s been missing for a week.”

  I put the photo on the desk and then consulted Google for the name Giovanni Mancini. A long list of links appeared, including Facebook profiles and Twitter accounts. Which one was the Giovanni Mancini in question would take some time to dig through, if I was going to dig through it, there wasn’t a whole lot paranormal about a missing person.

  “Sounds like you should go to the cops,” I said to her.

  She grinned, displaying her flawless sparklingly white teeth. “My brother had a lot of close calls with demons. I think they stepped up their game.”

  “Why would demons take interest in him?”