Flirting with Sin Ch. 01

I: The Hunter Stalks

"... the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour." - Peter 5:8

My boots sunk into the grime lining the rain-slick street corner. I stared down the alleyway, watching the trail of blood drip into the gutter. My heart pounded in my throat as I choked the dagger holstered at my belt in a white-knuckled vice grip.

The Lord is my strength and my shield. The Lord is my strength and my shield. The Lord is my...

My hair was matted to my forehead, but I couldn't tell if it was the rain or nervous sweat. Each step into the alley was a test of my mettle. The darkened pathway was as a howling abyss, the sweltering gusts its rancid breath, the trickle of rain its flying spittle. Every nerve in my body told me to flee, but to turn back now would be to cast aside my rank and title and throw myself at the mercy of the gallows. I would see this devil's challenge through or my life would be forfeit.

The wet wind nipped my neck and bit at my ears. I tread one uneasy foot after another into the dark alleyway and listened intently. The tell-tale signs of demonic corruption were there. The crackle of embers on the wind, pulled from the hellish Inferno. The cries of tormented souls, devoured by devils. The scratching on the walls of your mind, the clawing of a dark entity burrowing its way into your brain. Difficult to perceive to the untrained, impossible to miss by those anointed with the holy symbols. I could feel the scripture in my robe's chest pocket throbbing as if it were a part of me.

The mixture of blood and rain in the alley was disturbed by footprints. Though muddled by the blood, there was an alien quality to them--there were rounded toe markings like those of an animal. I sucked in air through my nose and exhaled anxiety; this demon was likely some kind of animalistic predator.

A rank smell grew stronger the farther I went, the intense stench of blood. I was deep within the alley's gullet and could practically taste the iron and plasma in the air. Rounding the corner between the edges of buildings, the sound of something lapping up liquid made my veins freeze.

A slender white figure sat there in the alley on its legs, crouched over the blood-spattered body of a bloated looking man laying perfectly still. Its back and lower half were covered in hair, the fur-like covering soaked in dark crimson. Long red-brown hair, straight and fine, trailed from the creature's head and draped over the man's body. The faint sounds of biting, tearing, and swallowing carried over the falling rain.

The creature raised its head and outstretched its arms, dripping wet with rain and the man's red essence. Its fingers--long, thin and slender, with what could only be sharpened claws where its nails should be--touched the creature's mouth one by one as it savored the leftover remnants of his gore. Its lips were full, pink and plush-looking as they sucked clean each claw. As it sat up straight I took in the full shape of its body--unmistakably hourglass shaped, its breasts in clean view. Aside from its fur, it was perfectly naked and undeniably female.

Unable to stop myself, I gave in to the wiles of her form for only a moment. The shapely, perky hills atop her chest. The plush-soft and flawless pale skin of her back and midsection, despite the firm muscles carved into it. Her perfectly round backside, covered in alluringly soft fur. It only took a moment, but my mind was completely lost in her charm. My head burned and sinful thoughts reigned for a blissful, damning moment.

Catching myself, I gasped and freed myself from her hypnotizing looks. It is not a woman, it is a demon, I reminded myself, and it must be destroyed.

Two tufts of hair on either side of its head moved of their own accord--and turned toward me, revealing pink insides. Ears. It heard me and its head flitted in my direction. Its eyes were dark slits cut into gleaming emeralds. Up and down they searched my form, first in apprehension, its entire body becoming stiff and tight and showing the smallest hint of fear. That quickly faded, however, and something more primal painted its features.

It extended its claws and the corners of its lips bent into the smallest of smiles. The claws on the ends of its toes dug into the ground and its knees bent, primed to spring. Terror spread into every corner of my mind, fight and flight deadlocked in an indecision that left me merely paralyzed and sucking in air. I gripped the blade holstered at my side and held for dear life.

The creature leapt from its spot and began toward me with inhuman speed, the strides of its muscular legs propelling it several feet at a time. I waited with my hand on the blade--if I drew it too soon, the demon would merely slap it from my hands.

Its feet hit the puddles below, splattering the alley with thin rain washed blood. Just a few steps away, now. I had to hold steady; drawing too soon would be a death sentence, as would be drawing too late.

Its foot slapped the water only a few feet away. I could see its bright green eyes staring me down with an animal hunger. It was as a great cat pouncing upon a tiny, trembling mouse--only the mouse was sitting on a steel trap, and just as it closed in, the jaws would snap shut.

The steel sprung from its scabbard and I thrust it before me as fast as a shot. I felt warm flesh stop my hands. The demon's eyes popped open in surprise; it gazed into mine with shocked bewilderment. We stood there in a strangely intimate moment as the dagger sunk home, the creature's face close enough to mine to feel hot breath puffing through its nose.

Glancing down at my hands, I expected to see burning blood pouring from its wound, the essence of evil that even my blessed Hunter's robes would likely not be able to protect me from. Instead, I saw the creature's hands clasped around mine, and the dagger stopped only centimeters away from the pale flesh of the demon's midsection.

"... My, my, how forward. We only just met."

The creature's voice was deep and feminine. It was so close I could smell it, a dizzying mixture of blood and sweat. I tried to wrest my hands free, but it held me in a powerful grip. The demon came closer, dipping its nose toward my neck to take a deep whiff of me.

"You smell..." it said, taking another several sniffs, "wonderrrful. Something about your skin is, ohhh. I could just devourrr you."

A slow purr rumbled in the creature's throat and rolled into my ears. It parted its lips and scratched my neck with its strangely sharp tongue, nearly pricking the skin. It was painful, and yet the sensation of her tongue, hot enough to sear my flesh, made sparks fly in my head.

I shook my head hard and drew away from the demon, tugging my hands free from its grasp--or rather, it felt more like it let me go. The dagger slipped from my fingers and fell into the damp alley, and the creature kicked it away.

"I had heard of you Hunters of the Church beforrre, but never in the flesh. So this is how a holy man is like to treat a lady? Ask no questions, stab herrr in the gut?"

The more it spoke, the more difficult it was for me to hold onto my perception of the creature as a demon. It was female, there was no denying that, but the only thing separating her from that of a human woman were her long clawed fingers and feet, as well as her fur and those inhuman ears on her head. Even the catlike eyes stirred an intrigue in my mind that the Church would be sure to punish if they knew of how my resolve had faltered.

"You--demon! Do not play coy. You murdered that man! His blood stains the alley! You would have done the same to me! The city is endangered by your mere presence!" I barked, holding fast to my resolve.

It was pointless to speak to a demon, as they knew no remorse and no pity. Yet she was not a foot away, a claw to her chin, considering me. Why hadn't she just shredded me into a thousand pieces like she clearly had meant to do a moment before?

From inside my robes I drew my service weapon, a forty-four caliber magnum, and aimed between the creature's eyes. I pulled back the hammer; a silver bullet was primed in the chamber. The demon cocked its head and frowned.

"Oh yes, him. He cornerrred me and meant to rape me. Was I to offerrr him my body freely and let him have his way with me?" she asked, her voice a scratchy mixture of human speech and catlike mewls. "He found his way inside me one way or another. I think he would be grrrateful."

Demons are notorious liars. There isn't a single chance an ordinary man could have overpowered her, and the trail of blood oozing its way toward the gutter was proof of that. The idea that she felt any reason at all to make up a cover story didn't sit right, however.

"Don't bullshit me! You dragged him in here for your next meal--or maybe he botched your summoning, so you used his life to pay the tribute, or..."

My accusations were abruptly interrupted by a long prehensile tail fluffing my lips and nose. It curled around my chin and stroked my cheek, distracting me as the catlike-creature pressed against me, her leg rubbing up against mine.

"Hey... Forget about him, alrrright? I have," she purred. "You'rrre much more interesting than him."

She pushed the gun away and snaked her hand around my back, feeling up and down my robes. I shuddered under her touch; my head was clouded by her green eyes and the scent of her hot breath. The demonic charm was more powerful than I could have possibly imagined. Any moment she could have ripped me in half, but half of me was ready to let her do it.

"Maybe I would have pounced on you like a little mouse, caught you in my claws. You look so tasty, little Hunterrr, I couldn't help myself. You will forgive me, rrright? Is God not all about... forrrgiveness?" she asked slowly and coyly, the words snaking between her fanged teeth and burning hot in my ears.

The demon's claws ran down my cheek, scratching ever so gently as she pressed the plush of her fingertips against my jaw. I was caught in her eyes, deep pools of jade one could drown in. The creature's gaze was hypnotizing and filled with predatory hunger; I'd be staring into those eyes even as she ripped out my throat and coated her face with my blood. She flashed her fangs, sharp as daggers just behind those plush full lips, and closed in on me.

My arm throbbed in pain. The skin stung like an electric current was flowing where the anointment had been carved into the flesh, and I remembered my duty.

I threw the demon off of me. As her legs were rebounding I dove onto the dagger in the alley and rose as quickly as I could to my knees, holding it and the gun together in my hands like a single weapon.

"Demon! Foul and lecherous creature! This world will not suffer your presence to murder any other innocents!" I bellowed, standing and approaching her with the blade.

The dagger shined with holy brilliance, the power to destroy evil. I held it at the level of her heart, ready to drive it home and spill her corrupted blood into the gutters.

She sighed and examined her claws. "I could rrrip out your guts and decorate the alley with them, little boy. This is borrring."

The demon squatted down, her legs tensing like she meant to pounce. Instead of springing upon me and ripping out my eyes, however, she leapt high into the air above me and landed on the roof of one of the adjacent buildings. She peeked her head down the side, her long hair spilling over the edge.

"Prrray we do not meet again, little boy playing at being a Hunter. I might not be so kind the next time!" she cackled, her voice carrying through the alleyway like a booming roar.

One of her gleaming emerald orbs disappeared for a moment as she stared down at me--was that a wink?--before she disappeared into the night.

II: A Tithe of Agony

Crack!

I clenched my teeth as hard as I could to avoid biting my tongue. This was only the first, there would be several more before it was over.

Crack!

"Repentance is not offered in cowering silence, boy! Speak! What do you say to He who would grant you forgiveness?" the paladin's voice boomed down the shaded cloister.

"Th-thank you, O Holy Father...! Thank you for giving me another ch-chance..." I managed, weakly.

Crack!

Blood rolled down my back. I could feel the sting of the whip in every drop of blood. My hands were balled into tight fists as I held on desperately to dignity. Four lashes left.

Crack!

"Thank you, my Lord! Thank you for allowing this lowly servant to offer his flesh for your merciful forgiveness, undeserving as I am!" I spat, repeating the only words I knew that would spare a sinner from the gallows.

The armored crusader grunted loudly with each lash and struck me like he were interrogating a war criminal or murderer. There was some sort of sick satisfaction he must have found in 'excising the sin,' as he gave me three lashes more than I had been sentenced to.

I sat there on my knees for what felt like an hour before anyone saw fit to unbind my wrists. My body was covered in dried blood, markings of shame. I had earned it.

They had explained to me, over and over until it was impossible to forget, that the city relies on the Church for its protection from demonic invaders. That it fell upon us to protect man from his sins and return them to the fiery dark whenever they manifested. My failure to dispatch that low rank demon in the alleyway was a failure of the Church to protect the city, and a man had lost his life due to my failure.

I should have been executed, an eye for an eye demands it. Yet in their mercy, following my twelve lashes, they would allow me another chance to bring justice to the life that had been lost by destroying the demon who took it.

Had I been quicker on the draw, had my reflexes been more honed, my blessed blade would have found its home in the blackened blood of her gut and there would not be yet another demon on the loose. Had I simply pulled the trigger rather than be frozen in uncertainty and fear. Fear is the enemy, and hesitation is defeat. Why did I hesitate? Because she looked like a woman?

I had been warned time and time again that demons use charm to beguile the mind. They will lie, cheat and steal when they think they have the better of you, and cry and plead when they do not. Many stories have been told of men who took dark contracts with demonkind for promises of power or riches, and their souls now boil in the eternal lake of fire.

More curious however are the tales of demons who have begged for mercy and forgiveness, as if they were living beings and not mere manifestations of malice and tools of hellish discord. They cannot be suffered in this world; even if the demons had not actually committed any of their own crimes, the act of summoning is fueled by blood sacrifice. Innocent people are tortured and murdered in order to bring them into this Earthly realm.

I was too weak to stand, so a couple of acolytes had dragged my bloody carcass from the cloister and tossed me into one of the communal chambers. Limply I had managed to crawl onto the guest bed and lay on my side. It was far too painful to lie on my back.

The light coming from the stained glass in the window darkened to a moonlit gloom as I faded in and out of consciousness. At some point while I slept a meager plate of broccoli and some indiscernible section of fish had been set on the floor. I suppose they deigned that I might not subsist on body and blood alone.

The fish had been cooked hours ago and was beginning to smell. Though I was hungry, crawling over to it seemed like too much effort. It did, however, stir my dazzled mind.

She was on all fours, leaning over the man and lapping up his blood and consuming his flesh. Licking it from her fingers like she'd made a mess of a steak dinner. The demoness--with her long, muscular limbs and elongated claws. Her undeniable poise. Her curious manner, and the way she came right up to me and purred. Purred, like a cat.

She could have ripped me in two. Why didn't she? She tossed my holy dagger aside like a cheap toy, and she pawed at me like she'd found a new plaything. If I had not drawn the dagger when I did, would I now be dead? Or was there a sliver of truth to her words?

Though loathe I am to admit it, even to myself, I was terribly fascinated with her. The way she moved, the way she spoke. What if she was truly only defending herself from that man, moments before I arrived? What if her animal instincts only came into play after his death? No--I could not entertain such thoughts. The devil's playground is a curious mind.

The door creaked open and the flowing cloth of a nun's habit poured in. Peeking out from her wimple was a pale face shrouded by dark bangs, wearing a knowing smile. In her silken gloved hands was a bottle of peroxide, a damp cloth and a roll of gauze.

"Another lashing, Trevor?" she said gently. Her voice was like a calming spring breeze. "I've come to think you must enjoy them."

"Sister Alessa," I weakly croaked. "The sin... must be excised by the shedding of blood, or it will fester, and--"

"You're lucky they did not excise your life. Sit up."

Painfully I rose and she silently went to work on me, cleaning the blood and disinfecting the wounds, paying my pained grunts little heed. It had become routine; the Sister had taken to me like a fraying blanket in need of constant patching.

Alessa gingerly touched her fingertips to the symbol of the Trinity on my left arm. "The day will come when the Lord's protection may not be enough. You need to be more careful."

My arm was lined with blessed symbols that granted me a bulwark against demonic corruption. An ordinary mortal man would break under a demon's influence, become their willing servant or mindless thrall unless they were strong willed, for the smog of a demon's corruption is thick enough to asphyxiate the mind and strangle the soul.

The symbols would protect me so long as I held fast to my conviction. The blessing came at a cost, however--to a demon I was a delectable treat, my blessed soul an irresistible delicacy, and they'd spare no effort in swallowing it whole.

The Sister traced her fingers up and down the anointments as if to ensure the blessing was still there. Satisfied, she returned to making my wounds sizzle under the disinfectant.

"If he'd lashed you a few times more there'd be no skin left," she said.

"It's what my failure has earned."

Alessa sighed. "How can they expect you to protect the city if you're injured?"

"A man who cannot carry the weight of his sins upon his back can hardly be expected to lift up others."

"So sayeth the Lord? Or those who give you your orders?" Alessa's piercing gaze invaded my periphery. "Consider yourself before your doctrine just once. The Lord will forgive you. I will forgive you."

"The demon won't wait for me to recover. It will kill again," I said.

Alessa tightly dressed the wounds with gauze. "It will kill you if you're not careful. You're not a disposable thing to just be used up and thrown away, Trevor."

"The lives taken must be repaid with a life. The demon's, or mine."

"That's not..." Alessa pressed her hands against my back. "Listen to me. If something happens, if you get hurt or it's too much for you, come straight to me. Understand? You're good at following orders, so do what I say and don't tell anyone else."

"... Yes, Sister."

Alessa's concern was more troubling than any hellborne monster. To shelter me from my own failures was as shameful as to have committed them in the first place, and it would be punished. No, I wouldn't allow her to put herself in harm's way for my sake. There was no time to allow my body to heal, as that demon was out there on the loose. I could only pray that the Lord would protect my mortal body and give me the strength to do what needed to be done.