Kiss of the Demon Girl

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Never understood why he insisted on me having it, I was the outcast in the family. American born, unlike my brother and sister who were born in Tokyo during my brief stay there when I was five. I spoke Japanese, but that was about it when it came to my family’s heritage, I didn’t care for the culture and jumped for joy when I learned we were moving back to America when I was nine.

  Dwelling on the past, I fucking hated it at times. I lit a cigarette using my talents, the cat watched me with intrigue as the tiny flame on my finger vanished and I took my first puff.

  “What’s wrong, cat? Never saw a human use magic to light a smoke?” I said to it, not that it would understand me.

  I returned to my kitchen to give my new cat time to adjust to its new home. I indulged on the cheap beer stored in my finicky fridge and dined off leftover one-dollar McDonalds menu food. I lay back on my couch after discarding the greasy burger wrapper on the floor and gazed up at the decades old ceiling. I took the necklace off from around my neck, held into its chain while the end piece of it dangled above my face amid the smoke from my cigarette. My eyes remained glued to it, almost hypnotized at the necklace’s design, as I debated what sort of links it might have regarding Lexi, me, my talents, and past and future attackers, if any.

  I pushed my half empty beer can to my face and glugged down the last of its contents while my lit cigarette rested upon my full ash tray. My brain was going to need all the fuel it could get tonight as I planned my next move. The beast, evil force, whatever it was that was growing in me. It was resonating with the necklace, like it recognized its importance. Too bad it wouldn’t straight-up tell me what was up, just like Lexi. Was I supposed to just know these things or something?

  I dangled the necklace back and forth for five minutes, and then it hit me. It’s length, the material it was made of, the platinum-like color of it. I threw the empty beer can, it landed with a clank amongst other beer bottles and cans on the floor as I rose up and searched through my bedroom night stand drawer. Inside the second drawer, I found it. A necklace that I swiped from the first man that tried to attack me.

  I held the two necklaces apart from each other, giving myself a perfect side-by-side comparison of the two. Their lengths were the same, the icon at the end, while different, was around the same size, and the material was no doubt the same too. Both were warm to the touch too; the necklace Lexi gave me was understandable as I had been wearing it. But the other? This shit has been sitting here in my drawer for days, it should have been cold.

  I grabbed my phone and took a quick snapshot of the pendants and placed them on top of my bed. I sent the pic to Jim along with a text message asking if he could find any information about them. Lexi had one, my attackers had the same ones… it must be a means of branding members of some sort of gang. Hell, who was I kidding? My talents played a role in this, I was dealing with a cult. In any case they were bound to have more members with these necklaces, a fixer like Jim spends his whole life dealing with underground shit, and he might have contacts that know more.

  With the pic and message sent, I tapped the screen of my phone to access my secret saving bank account. With the loss of income tonight and the new task I’m assigning Jim, I had some serious budgeting to do and funds that needed to be deposited into his account.

  Central Park during this time of the year never disappointed. The trees began to make their transition from green to yellow and orange, fallen leaves decorated the paved walkways as tourists and local folks strolled through with their expensive coats on, unless they were going for a jog, in that case they straight-up wore shorts and tee.

  I sat alone on a bench that was overlooking the still waters of Central Park Lake as the skyline of Manhattan sprung up into the partially cloudy daytime skies, the next day. I wore a leather jacket and skirt along with my long black boots while my backpack rested on my lap. A red scarf wrapped around my neck, covering the Yakuza tattoos that rose that high on my body while I gave off the false impression to the passersby that I was admiring the natural and urban view before me.

  Another figure took a seat next to me, trench coat, shades, black pants, it was good old Jim. Both of our sights remained forward at the view, refusing to confirm our existence to each other. Those that walked past us saw nothing more than two strangers that happen to be sharing the same bench watching the same view.

  “Keep your eyes forward,” Jim whispered to me as fewer people walked past us.

  “I know the drill.”

  Jim wasn’t a fan of meeting during the daytime and none of his safe houses at the time were free. This was the only way for us to meet face-to-face all while keeping in account that I had the cops watching me, shady folks stalking me, and Jim, was Jim. He worked for whoever paid him, he’s covered up or killed for the mob, only to turn around and do the same for a rival group. He had no real allies unless he had an existing job to do for them.

  I discreetly placed the necklaces out from my bag and onto the empty space on the bench between us. “So, you know Lexi?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Lexi Hartridge? Sexy redhead pop music sensation.”

  “I don’t listen to pop tart music.”

  “She gave me that necklace. Call me crazy, but they feel as though they’re made by the same manufacturer as the necklace my attackers wore.”

  “That’s not anything new these days, well about the necklace.”

  “Except when you have a bunch of dickheads trying to kill you all wearing the same one.”

  “Why would a high-profile celebrity give you that though?”

  “She invited me into her place, apparently she was expecting me, when I left she gave me this, she also had one for herself. I’m starting to think she is related to my attacks… I just don’t know in what way.”

  “I’ll investigate it and see if my contacts have anything juicy that might be of use.”

  “The cops too if you can, I want to know how far they’ve gotten into their investigation.”

  “That’s gonna cost extra, hun!”

  I was closer to the truth now more than ever. I had no problem sending Jim more money at that point if it was going to encourage him to put forth more of an effort. The slipup two nights before was probably due to him getting sloppy anyways since I had been holding out on him.

  “You’ll get your money, Jim.”

  “Hey, I probably should have asked you this earlier, but are you going to need a gun or something? Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into some deep shit here.”

  I smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

  “My supplier has a good deal on Glocks and bullets. Just say the word and give me the cash.”

  “Didn’t know you cared.”

  “I don’t. I just need you alive so that you can pay me.” And the truth came out, typical fixer. “I may, or may not, be getting a cut of the profits from every customer I send to my arms dealer as well.”

  With nothing else important to add, I got up from the seat and walked away. No goodbyes, no waving, nothing. Just two strangers going home after a walk in the park, not caring about each other or the two necklaces left behind which Jim’s sleight of hand had gotten.

  I triple-checked my car, searching for any signs of tampering, hidden bombs and the like that might have found its way into it during my meet up in Central Park. The world’s a crazy place, and my world is an utterly insane one. Everything looked good, and I drove away adding to the congestion on the roads.

  Jim had better come up with good leads with everything I gave him. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to mentally handle all the paranoia and stress. Add my talents into the equation, and there would be increased reports of buildings burning at the hands of a pissed off pyromaniac.

  My phone rang unknown name and number. My instincts told me to ignore it, my curiosity told me to answer it. It might be the call I’ve been waiting for. ‘Sorry for the stalking and attacks we’ll stop now, you were the wrong target.’ A g
irl can dream, right?

  I answered the call.

  “Hello, Reika?”

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Detective Gabe Wilson; we talked at your place the other day.”

  “Detective Wilson, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “When did you get sent to the hospital?”

  “Shouldn’t a detective like you be able to figure all that out?”

  “Sure, if there was a record of you being there in the first place,” he said, then paused. “Spoiler alert, there isn’t.”

  “I was there; I wouldn’t be talking to you if I wasn’t.” I got shot six fucking times, you need medical attention for that.

  “I know that, and I’ve read the police reports of the raid you got caught in. Yet there’s no files anywhere suggesting you were admitted to the hospital.”

  My face cringed, and it wasn’t because of the red light I got stuck at. “That’s fucked.”

  “Who was the doctor that worked on you?”

  “Doctor Schubert.” I remembered his name clearly because the first thing I thought of when hearing it was sherbet ice cream. Shit, I could go for some of that right now. I could care less that it was cold out, I wanted some comfort food!

  “Yeah, that name doesn’t exist either,” Gabe said. “Someone is covering your stay up.”

  “I assure you it wasn’t me.”

  “I believe you. The cigarette butt that was found apparently is being labeled as one that had been there for weeks. I saw the butt, it was fresh, the rain and cold we had the past week would have done a number to it.”

  I stopped myself at once. That cigarette butt was mine no questions asked, but I’d still rather him think it wasn’t, just in case this was a trick to get me to incriminate myself. “So now what?” I asked.

  “There’s not much else for me to go on. I’m probably going to be forced to drop this and move on to more pressing matters.”

  “I take it nobody else believes you?”

  “No… They don’t.”

  Okay, so the call wasn’t exactly what I had been wishing for, but it was still good to hear somewhat. If he was telling the truth, then he was no longer investigating me, therefore I could tell Jim to cancel the job of finding out what they knew, less money I got to spend. Yet… my records of being treated at the hospital and the disappearance of the doctor, that was disturbing. For sure someone did something to me there, an illegal experiment that gave me these talents. And now someone is trying to cover it up and send killers after me to make me disappear.

  I wanted to tell Gabe tough luck and end the call immediately. But he was on to something, something that might aid in my search for the truth. He being a detective meant he had access to information Jim wouldn’t be able to easily get. He could be a useful ally, or a slick adversary weaving a complex web of lies to trick me.

  Only one way to find out. “Let’s keep in touch, Gabe. I’d like to know why someone would go through all that fucking trouble to do this.”

  “Agreed.”

  I returned to my place of residence, looking forward to spending time with my new roommate. I came up with a name for the cat during my drive home, Emily, named after my first college roommate and the reason I never finished college. Emily, well the roommate I had back in college was full of crazy drama, like the shit you’d see on those girls gone wild videos, I got dragged along for the ride.

  Let’s never speak of that again.

  The front door was wide open. My heart sank, and my fists balled up with fury and flames. I know I left this door closed and locked when I left. I bolted into an apartment broken into, tables and chairs were tossed over, my collection of rubbish plowed into the corner as if someone was hoping something a value was under it.

  First thing I checked was my supply of beer, it was still there, thank fuck. Silverware was missing however, along with twenty bucks I had resting on my kitchen counter top, all replaceable. I ventured into my room and dropped to my knees. The cat and katana were missing, seriously who the fuck would steal a cat?

  Someone was going to pay, and they were going to need a fire truck to come put out the flames left behind… right after I smoke a cigarette or five. I needed it.

  Chapter Six

  Another depressing day at work was over and done with, I waddled out of the elevator and over to the front door of my piss-hole of an apartment, fantasizing on what it would be like to live someplace upscale. A place that couldn’t be so easily broken into like two days ago, a place like Lexi had. Damn, still couldn’t get that creepy night out of my head with her, or the strange burning desire to return. It was like being an object of Lexi’s attention was an important feat in life, the more I thought about it, the more a warm feeling embraced my chest. It was comforting, oddly enough, made me forget about my stolen cat and katana.

  Want to know what wasn’t comforting? The well-dressed man that joined me in the elevator ride up. And got off at the same floor as my place. I sighed and cracked my knuckles as I walked toward the door to my apartment. I knew exactly where this was going to lead.

  I heard his footsteps thump after mine while we both walked down the empty halls. Coincidence? Not likely. It was after midnight and I was certain everyone in this building worked nine-to-five. Everyone except me of course. It wasn’t Friday or Saturday night, so that ruled out someone returning home from a party, and finally he was dressed so nice. He had a glistening white business suit, and a tie that dangled over a black dress shirt. Long brown hair tied in a ponytail, some expensive ass shoes judging by the sounds his footsteps made and… Axe. Way too much of it sprayed over his body. My stalkers are stepping up their game.

  I approached my front door, projecting the false image I had no idea he was behind me as I felt the evil beast within me awaken, sending tiny ripples of flames across my fingers. I unlocked the door awaiting his move, hopefully one that would take us inside, I’d rather Jim not have to clean up blood stains on the outside hallway floors; fewer questions would be asked.

  I felt his hand cover my mouth, and his other grab onto my arm, hard. “Be a good girl and let me in, will ya?” he whispered into my ear.

  I complied, and grinned under his hand, for he was right where I needed him to be. He forced me inside and shoved me onto the floor. He was fucking strong, I’ll give him that. The front door slammed shut, my cue to put this fucker in his place. I stood up as red-hot flames covered my arm. My hands stretched toward him and ejected a tennis-ball-sized fireball aimed at his chest.

  My well-dressed attacker stood with his hands in his pocket, smiling. The first sign that allowing him inside might have been a mistake. The fireball hit him dead-on, waves of flames traversing across his chest. His hands waved away the smoke that rose, as I shot four follow-up fireballs at him, all hitting him, with the same effect.

  “That tickles.” He snickered.

  I hesitated, not knowing what to make of this. Was he immune? Was my talents effectiveness fading? Too much thinking, not enough action. I paid the price, he lunged at me, with a knife in hand. He held the blade above my neck, while his free hand gripped onto my arm once again. The pain was brutal. He pushed me onto the couch while keeping the sharp blade jammed in my general direction. I played my role and stayed put, any sudden moves would probably get my guts sliced open.

  “Okay, you got me,” I said. “Now what?”

  “A drink please.”

  “What?”

  “You know a drink? A cold one?” I gave him a confused look. There was no way he came all this way for some booze. “A beer, anything, come on now, you offered that cop one and they killed your old boyfriend.”

  This man was for real… and knew about me, yet I knew fuck all about him.

  I got up. “Slowly,” he demanded and waved the blade, its metallic surface reflecting the trashiness of my place.

  I walked to my sometimes-working fridge and got what he asked for. “My fridge is pretty shitty, this is a warm one not a cold
one.”

  “That’s fine,” he said as he followed me into the kitchen. “I’m not too fond of the cold anyways.” I noticed glowing red and orange light shine from behind as I grabbed his beer. I turned and gazed at the source of it, the blade he held was engulfed in flames. Flames I didn’t create, flames that raced across the hilt of the blade, setting his hand and arms ablaze.

  He was totally cool with it.

  He had talents, just like me.

  He smiled. “Ah, you weren’t expecting that, were you?”

  I handed him the beer as he moved closer, keeping the flaming blade close to me. He grimaced when he realized the flames didn’t cause me to flinch, burn, or scream in pain. Like him, the heat tickled more than anything.

  “Guess you weren’t expecting that were you?” I snickered.

  He took a sip of the beer. “Ah, how rude of me to not introduce myself. Name’s Lucifer.”

  “Well, Lucifer, my name is Reika. And I’m going to mop the fucking floor with you.”

  “Oh, come now, you should be thankful I’m not Asmodeus. He’d have you tied to the bed right now fucking your brains out.” He pushed his face closer to mine, close enough to feel and smell his breath. Fresh mint. I liked it, I won’t lie. “I’m beginning to understand why the others sent to meet you vanished.”

  “They screamed like little bitches when they died.”

  That comment hit a soft spot. He yanked me away from the fridge by my hair, forcing my head to tilt upward. At that point I’d had enough of his ass, I squirmed and wiggled my body and arms trying to break free.

  He pushed the flaming blade to my neck. “Keep still and let’s make this clean. It’s not every day I wake up in a spectacular suit like this—”

  The front door creaked open, it caused both of us to turn around, wondering who the hell slipped in uninvited. No footsteps followed. His confused gaze met mine. I shrugged.

  “Expecting someone?”

  “I live alone.”