Confessions of a Teenage Succubus Two - The Hunted

The Hunt Begins

I felt more than heard the demons fist as it passed by my ear.  It had been close. I had feinted just in time and the blow missed my head by a hairs width. I countered by swinging my blade in the general direction of his neck but I was off balance and not in position.  I missed as well, but I had forced him to take a step back, which gave me the room I needed to continue the attack.

Demons are beautiful creatures. They are descended from angels and it shows. This one had dark eyes and hair. His skin was a beautiful olive tone, he jaw square, his nose perfectly formed. He was handsome and his beauty was good camouflage for the evil he kept hidden inside.

My next swing brought a thin line of blood from his right cheek. I could see the surprise mixed with pain and anger in his eyes. He should of been expecting it. I would of been.

"You little fucking bitch" he yelled at me, "You are going to pay. I'm going to tear your fucking head from your body and fuck your dead little corpse!"  He laughed. Circling. He was still very sure of himself and that was to my advantage.

Yeah, okay,  I'm small. My breasts are a  undersized, my body slim, they type of girl guys call fun sized, but what I have is toned from constant training and our gifts from the Angel Raziel are endurance and the reflexes of a cat.

His comment about my physical size had really pissed me off.  I am sensitive about that.  I suffered years of being teased by my brothers and father about my small  boyish figure. His comments burned  and I felt my cheeks flush in anger.

He was moving quickly so I sliced  at his legs to keep him on the defensive. Demons can move fast, very fast and they have the strength of two men.  To my surprise I scored with that one. The blade cut deep into the thick muscle of his right thigh and making him curse.  He charged head down like a bull.

His head smashed into mine in retaliation and dropped me to my knees my head spinning. The demon losing blood, in pain and his mobility impaired  took  the opportunity to leave. With one good leg he wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. 

I stood and  took a deep breath to clear my head before giving pursuit. When I caught up with him I cut into his other leg from behind and hamstrung him. Hhe collapsed to his knees in pain.  He was starting to heal. The blood from my first strike had already stopped, the muscle of his thigh knitting itself back together. I made the end quick and merciful.  As I separated his head from his body a fountain of blood erupted from his neck covering  me in warm stickiness from head to toe.

I watched as his now headless body twitched and twisted like the body of a beheaded snake.  The eyes of the decapitated head opened and closed staring into mine, the mouth shouting silent curses.  It took a few minutes for the life to fade from his cold stare and for his soundlessly moving lips to cease forming the last words of a dying monster. 

I cleaned my blade on the still writhing body and gave the demons head a taste of my steel toed boot.

"Asshole" I cursed him, "you messed up my new jeans".  My jeans had gotten the worst of that blood spray. I had bought them in a mall only a few days ago and they had been my favorites. Now they were a ruined blood soaked mess.  I kicked the lifeless head again. Yes, I was pissed. It was more my fault than it was his but still. My favorite jeans!

 I went through his clothing, checking  to see if he was carrying anything I could use.  He carried the usual wallet, cash, papers and crap. Sewn into the lining of his jacket however  was a small black notebook. I cut it loose and held on to  that. The rest I threw back onto his still twitching body.

I cleaned my blade on his shirt and put it away.  Demons are hard to kill. It's not like you can just  shoot them. Well, you can and it slows them down a while if you hit them in the right spot. You can't beat them to death either. I've seen them run over by semi trucks and a few days later they are back,  sassy and full of grit.  It takes a hot fire or a Gods blessed weapon to send  them  to the pit. 

The sun was warm on my skin and a small breeze dried my sweat. The demons blood became thick, sticky and started to stink. I was attracting flies. I needed a shower and to change my clothes but you can't walk into hotel a blood soaked mess. Trust me, they wont give you a room.  I sighed. Such is my life.

I rested a while longer before stripping off my clothing. I stood naked in the warm sun and tried to clean up with the wet wipes I keep in my pack.  I went through the entire box before giving up. I looked better but I still felt nasty. I put clean clothes over my smelly stained body, and checked my hand mirror as I ran a brush through my tangled mess of red hair. Not exactly a fashion plate, but presentable enough I guessed. I shrugged and gathered all my stuff together into a pile next to my bike. Then I sat down in the shade of a big rock and took out the notebook I got from the dead demon.

It was written in Sanskrit.  I can read Sanskrit so no problem. It read like a journal. Anyone that didn't know what  had written it would think it was a diary of sorts.  It took some time to figure out exactly what I had. Hidden inside the day to day stuff  were meeting dates, times, places and there were names with locations. Many of the names were crossed out or lined through.  Interesting. 

Some of the names  I recognized and some I didn't. More than a few of them I had dispatched myself. The information I needed to find my next target was a little more difficult to find but finally I found it.  The name of a town not too far from here called MiddVille.  A date of birth that made this new one 14 years old, about the same age as me, and a name.  Blake. First name? Last name? There was no indication, but I would find out soon enough.

I loaded everything into my back pack and strapped it onto the back of my sport bike, climbed on and kicked  it to life. It has an electric start but something about the act of using the kick starter is more satisfying. It makes me feel like one of those biker chicks in the old movies. I bought the bike used from a car dealer in Maine last year. It was winter at the time and I got a great deal on it because I was paying in cash and it was winter time. No one wants to buy a motorcycle with three feet of snow on the ground.  I always pay in cash. So many less questions that way and I don't like people asking too many questions.

I love motorcycles.  The noise, the wind, the freedom. I rode slowly  up the dirt road and truned left onto the paved highway. Then  I let the engine scream and wound it tight before changing gears. The front wheel left the highway for a moment as the frame absorbed the  torque. I let myself revel in the after glow of the kill and basked in the rush that comes from riding a bike hard and fast.

When I came to the cross roads I turned West. West towards a town named MiddVille and another hunt, another demon.

My  name is  Amber Radda. 
I hunt  the children of Lilith.
I am Nephalim, a daughter of Raziel
I am the last of my family line.