Hells Angel

by Kim Faulks

  "I am not for sale, you fucking pervert. Now fuck off."

  The voice was cold, and even though she continued to stare at her lap he could feel danger and rage roll like waves off her and towards him.

  "I..." he stuttered, not even sure why the hell he stood here in a dark alley looking at some young woman like the pervert she mistook him for. "Can I help you?"

  She moved fast, too fast for him to react, and he stumbled backwards as she shoved him hard against the brick wall. Her face was only inches from his and he stared into her eyes, raw emotion smashing into him like waves of hate, and he knew that this was why he was here. He was here to put an end to her.

  “Sure,” she answered. “Give me your fucking money.”

  That had been the first time he had met Kellah Slater, and to say she left an impression was putting it mildly. It wasn’t just an impression that lingered, it was one that grew, and swelling over time until it was all he could think of.

  He could tell she saw him watching her from inside his car, and preceded make a point of grabbing parts of her body that made his own react. His stomach gurgled loudly as hot bile rose inside him. He wanted to look away, but he felt an overwhelming desire to watch her, an urge that both disgusted and frightened him. He needed to see her for what she was, so he clenched his jaw, dulled the fire in his eyes and watched.

  He had met more than his fair share of murderers and rapists in his time, but there was something about this woman, this thief, that drew him to her with an invisible magnet. He had decided a long time ago when he first saw her that it was his job to put her away, this was his mission - why else would he feel this way?

  She hadn't remembered him from the first time that they met. Why would she? He had changed considerably, the weight he gained setting around his stomach and the flecks of grey hair changing him from the fresh-faced rookie to someone tired and aged. No, she had made no connection to the person she robbed in the dark alley so long ago. It had been another town, another state, another him.

  He kept his eyes focused on the cars ahead as she walked towards him, but as she neared he couldn't stop himself from following her with his eyes. The years that had passed hadn't shown on her, she still looked not a day older than when he first saw her, while the passing years had been brutal on him. She passed him with a smart-arse remark about having a good day, and he waited for her to pass before he stepped out of his car. He would have a good day; he planned on getting as much evidence as possible, enough to put her away for good.

  He rounded his car, watching where she had just disappeared in case she returned, and after a few minutes of sweltering in the sun he made off for the apartment door. The inside of the derelict building lived up to his expectations, which weren't very high. Ruptured walls and dark smudges that looked like aged blood stains trailed along at waist height, as though someone wanted desperately to get out of here. Given this building's reputation, they probably didn't make it.

  Darrion climbed the stairs, his hand hovering over the grip of his gun and the thumb latch that would spring it free if he needed it. But it seemed Killer Place was quiet for the moment. Druggies were out peddling their stuff and everyone else sleeping off their meth hangover, so without a fuss he made his way to number five.

  The door stood ajar, and at first he cursed himself for coming across a break-in. But after he pushed the door open and slipped inside with his gun drawn, he found the apartment empty ... literally.

  Has she already gone? Cleaned out her apartment, making one last hurrah before she left ...That thought made his heart race, he had to do this now. He had to get the evidence to put her away before she left for good. A filthy mattress lay in the corner, yellow stains decorating the black and white striped cover.

  It took him a moment to realize that there had been no break-in. No, this was how she lived. Spots flooded his vision in that moment, drawing him into her reality, her life. The filthy mattress and broken TV cabinet were the only things in this room and he walked through the apartment, drawing her into him.

  This was too personal, way too personal, but still he moved quietly, treading carefully as he made his way into her kitchen which consisted of a tiny microwave - that was all. He pulled open the cupboard doors one-by-one, finding nothing but dried up cockroaches that lay on their backs and were almost big enough to saddle and ride. How does she live here? he asked himself, both confused and sad at the same time.

  He pulled open the last cupboard, finding the only indication that anyone had ever lived here. The bag of Whiskas took up most of the cupboard, the corner cut cleanly and folded so that the biscuits didn't become stale. He bent down, pulling open the corner and stared into the tiny brown stars and pillows. Somewhere that she could easily hide the handful of chokers she had lifted. He looked around for a bowl, pushing aside the single servings of two-minute noodles as he searched. There were no bowls, no cups, or saucers. Frustrated, he pushed himself up, walking through to the other side of the kitchen and found what he was after. Two bowls sat on the ground facing the cracked, open window. One bowl filled with the Whiskas and the other filled to the brim with water.

  He looked around for an animal, the ploy seeming real for once. But he knew it was a trick, it had to be. There was nothing kind or decent about this woman and he was about to prove it, even if it was to himself. He dumped the water down the drain and filled both bowls with the biscuits, sifting through them while his frustration and anger soared until he came to the bottom, empty-handed.

  He sat back, surrounded by the cat food that had spilled over the edges and on to the floor. He closed his eyes, counting to ten while he seethed inside. Just when he thought he was close to finding those jewels, something happened to slam a door in his face. He had never spent so many goddamn hours dedicated to a single criminal before. So many wasted, pathetic hours, he thought, shoving the nearest bowl away from him and scattering the tiny biscuits everywhere.

  Yes you have, Darrion, said a tiny voice inside his head. Don't you remember?

  No, he wasn't doing this here. He ... Was … Not.

  He wouldn't bring the memory of his wife and daughter into this filthy place or anywhere near this bitch. These memories were like the most precious of diamonds to him and there was no way he was going to allow Kellah Slater to have even a glimpse of them, for fear that she would steal them from under his nose.

  When he'd gained control over his emotions and his runaway thoughts he pulled himself up, scooping the damn cat food up and shoveling it back into the bag with his hands. The stuff was everywhere, but he couldn't exactly leave it as it was, could he?

  He threw the last in the bag, screwed the top shut and shoved it back in the cupboard, pulling the noodles forward. No wonder the little thief stole, she was as close to destitute as he had ever known. Hell, even those who lived on the streets were better fed than this.

  He placed the bowls back where they had been, filling up one with water from the tap, and made his way around the rest of the apartment. The bathroom seemed a little too personal for him, seeing her clothes draped over the shower curtain rod, the soap bar half used. He could imagine the dull yellow bar slipping and sliding over her skin, along her length of legs, between her...

  Snap out of it! He almost screamed out loud, before clamping down on his teeth and grinding his jaw. It was inside his head was where the command was needed. He needed to pull himself together and get out of here.

  A black fake leather jacket was draped over the back of a hideous orange chair. It would have to do, there was nothing else he could attach the transmitter to, and as he fixed the tiny metal bug to the underneath crease of the collar he whispered a prayer that this was her favorite jacket. Of course it was, he countered. It was the only bloody one she had.

  He'd just made it back to his car when the familiar 45 patrol car pulled up outside the building, and after the officer paused long enough to call in his location he exited the vehicle and looked around. No officer wanted to be
called to Killer Place, and he was surprised that this one turned up alone. Maybe he could call in and assist? Yeah, and be logged by dispatch at being at the scene, stupid idiot.

  As much as he wanted to help the lone officer, he couldn't risk getting caught and suddenly realized that one time he would never have thought like this, he would never have acted like this. Hunter's policing career had become one big slippery slope and by the rate of his descent, he was about to hit rock bottom pretty damn soon.

  Chapter 7

  Kellah drained the bottle of whiskey before she hit the front doors. Even though the alcohol didn't give her that floating feeling that it seemed to with humans, it burned her from the inside out just the same. To her that was as close as she was going to get to sex of any kind.

  That's what she needed, to feel another's flesh. To taste another's blood, anything to scrub her mind and body clean of the one who plagued her thoughts, anything to rid her of that vile human, Detective Hunter. Her teeth chattered as she shivered when the outside air hit her human skin. No matter how long she had lived in this shit-hole, she still wasn't acclimatized to the cold. Even in the middle of their so called heat wave.

  She made for her apartment as she thought about what had just happened. It wasn't the first time Gerry had wanted to pimp her out, no doubt lining up to take a crack at her first. Fucker would probably croak it on top of her, without question. That thought made her blood run cold and she walked faster, getting away from him as fast as she could. The fucker was already dead, she growled, he just didn't know it.

  Gerry was the only human who knew what she was and in this human world she needed someone like him. Was it in her best interest to keep him around to ensure that her dealings with the humans in this world were kept to a minimum? Maybe she should cure him of the cancer that ate at his body and soul? Then what would she have over the human to ensure his compliance? Nothing, that's what.

  She thought about this as she unlocked the door and moved through the apartment, pulling her jacket from the back of the chair in the bathroom, made for the door and stopped.

  There was cat food underneath the cupboard, scattered along the kick board, and even a few over towards the window. She knew for a fact that it hadn't been there earlier. Her orb grew hotter against her throat as her anger grew. She could smell him, the scent of sweat and aftershave hidden underneath the stench of righteousness.

  She shuddered and felt her features shift underneath her skin. Her need was increased by not just his scent, but by the mere fact that he had been in her apartment and had broken the law to do it. Hunter was everywhere around her. The fucker was even inside her; inside her mind, inside her body, and she wanted, no, she needed to get him out.

  Desire, hunger, and utter frustration were the things that fueled her, making her mind rage while her body felt weak and in need. She needed to rectify that. Now.

  Her body moved faster than humans could see, even though her mind had stopped, repeating Hunter's name like a goddamn stuck record until she reached the bridge. The call was coming and there was not a thing she could do to stop it, even if she wanted to. As her orb burned with the heat of Hell it called forth what her soul needed, what it craved for, and before her mind played tricks on her body, she felt the human answer to that call. She felt him coming for her.

  Call it what you will, self-preservation, a cleansing of her soul - Oh wait a minute. That's right. She fucking had none. How about don't call it anything at all, how about stop over-fucking-analyzing this shit Kellah, and just do it?

  She felt drawn to the low growl off in the distance and, as the sound grew to a deafening throb of Harley's, she felt her body respond. Relax, it's just sex, she reminded herself as she brushed her hair back off her shoulders, smoothed down her top, and then stopped as the obvious dawned on her. Why the fuck was she even thinking like this? When had Kellah, The Demon, turned into a nervous fucking wreck?

  The air felt heavy and dark around her as though she had just sunk to an all-time low on the evolutionary scale, hovering somewhere between a teenage human girl and a cockroach.

  She closed her eyes and felt the unmistakable pull of danger as the bikes thundered past. The human she needed was there, moving with the crowd of other bikers until he felt her call and stopped. She breathed in the scent of his essence she called out to and sighed, danger was indeed all around her on this planet called Earth, but nothing compared to deadly rattlesnake she felt moving toward her.

  Her eyes tracked the human as he made his way toward her with the stroll and swagger that only the young could achieve. His eyes were quick, hostile and guarded. A perfect soulless, tortured human being who filled her with sinful hope once more. Yeah, she could do this. She could get back to her true self, riding the flesh of this human and forget all about Darrion Hunter once and for all. The human ran his hand slowly through his long dirty blonde hair, pushing it away from his sunglasses as he locked onto her. He wasn't necessarily her type, his scruffy beard and muscled body a little too small for her liking. She liked them big ... real big, so when they fell they fell hard, and she wasn't talking about love.

  He jerked his head upwards at her, his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. Oh, how sweet ... he likes me, she thought to herself. She couldn't help but smile back, but for a whole different reason. He looked her up and down, taking in her tattoos and chest size more than anything else before sauntering over, feeling the pull she sent out.

  He was dressed differently than she expected from a biker. His black leather vest was covered with symbols the meaning of which escaped her, and some kind of military insignia with Sergeant at Arms written underneath what she assumed was his name Samael. The words Hells Angels were written in an arc over a skull wearing a helmet with bright yellow and red wings, and she couldn't help but see a connection.

  She looked at him with fresh eyes now, seeing the potential where there had been none a second ago. Hells Angels, that was what she was, and a sense of pride seemed to swell inside of her. He hitched in his swagger as he stepped closer, pulling his sunglasses lower so that he could pierce her with his cold grey eyes.

  He was deceptive this one, not a boy playing at danger at all, no this one reeked of it. Her lips felt dry as the moisture in her body traveled elsewhere, and she licked her lips. Her eyes sought the contours of his body underneath the vest, white cotton T-shirt, and baggy jeans that seemed to start somewhere mid-thigh and end gathered around his white skate shoes.

  "You the reason I'm here?" he asked, his eyes darting around him as though he expected an ambush any second. He stepped past her, looking around, his eyes immediately drawn to the shadows of the bridge where humans sat. She was amused, none of the: what are you, what's happening to me drama. The silence was refreshing.

  The back of his vest was decorated with the same skull and wings that were stitched into the corner of the front of his vest, and as she watched this human move around her she felt Hunter push back in her mind. Finally, he was being replaced.

  "So, what's the go?" he asked, moving back around to stand in front of her. Now that the desire to stay alive was sated and he realized that he was in no danger, he relaxed, allowing his eyes to slide slowly over her body. She hardened as the soft lacy fabric of her bra moved against the puckered contours of her nipples, and he liked that, liked that he had that kind of effect on her.

  She allowed this dance to happen, not wanting to make any sudden move to prevent it from occurring. He stepped closer, so close that any sudden movement would cause the slightest touch of their bodies, and whispered, "You in need of something?"

  Oh, Hell yeah, she was.

  She pulled his sunglasses forward and the sparkle of icy eyes stared back at her. They say that the eyes are the windows to the very soul, and this one’s should have been inky black. Her breath caught, and she was swept away.

  "You in need of something, baby?" he asked again, taking that one step closer until their bodies touched.

 
"Yeah, I am," she finally answered, holding his gaze.

  He reached up, sliding his hand upwards along the flesh of her arm and shoulder to slide up the back of her neck, his thumb cradling her jaw. He pulled her head down towards him and met her lips with his; she rolled her lips back slightly, covering her razor teeth with them. The call was so strong, and she needed desperately to feel his flesh under and inside of her. But as strong as the call was, there was something else that was stronger, and his name echoed inside her head as this strangers tongue filled her mouth. Hunter.

  Her hands reached out to slide around his waist, pulling him harder against her. The hard metal of a gun poked out of the waist band of his jeans, covered by his white shirt. "Careful, baby," he whispered in her ear. "Don't want my gun to go off now, do you?"

  Actually, that was precisely what she wanted and he seemed to sense that, his head dipping to her mouth once again. He kissed her like he wanted to consume her, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth, spreading her lips wide until the corners burned in protest; he abruptly pulled away, his lips bleeding from her teeth. He reached up, wiping his hand along his mouth and looking down as it came away bloody.

  "I don't know what you are, but I know danger when I see it. And you, my friend, are going to be the death of me. I can just feel it."

  He seemed to weigh up a list of unspoken pros and cons, and Kellah stayed silent. It was a beautiful thing to watch one slide closer to Hells gates. "This desire I feel for you makes me feel more alive than I've felt in a long, long time, and I just can't walk away from that."

  "That was the whole point," she answered, her voice deep and throaty.

  "I think I'll hang around this shit-hole for a while, you want my number? Maybe we can hook up a little later?"

  She pulled out her phone, punching in the buttons for him to enter his number into her phone. "Maybe," she answered with a shrug as he kissed her one more time before walking away. She knew damn well she was going to be breaking her vow of never sharing flesh with a human again, she just hoped that this time the human wouldn't scream, piss himself, and pass out.