The Hunter's Tale

"It appears you traveled a long way to find her, handsome. I can only imagine the journey you've been on. Goodness, you must be absolutely parched. Doesn't he look a bit in need of refreshment, my darling?"

"Need...drink," came the grunting response of her thrall.

"Mmmmm. Perhaps a little warmth in your belly would do you some good, handsome. This one's on the house."

Before the slayer could object, the man slammed him facefirst into the counter, momentarily dazing him upon impact.

"Careful now. Not a drop on the floor, or else you'll be cleaning it up with your tongue." Her reprimanding tone called out to the right of him.

"Yes...mistress."

The Hunter was suddenly turned over on his back facing the ceiling, but more importantly the snarling face of her enthralled acolyte.

Slipping his gun in his belt, he wrapped one hand around the throat of the Hunter while reaching with the other- reaching and grabbing the mug handle.

Immediately, he felt the tightening squeeze of five meaty fingers closing around his windpipe.

"You were right to assume I hold no love for the winged whores that our Father adores so much. But, unfortunately, human, you were wrong to think I would ever cater to the whims of insignificant mortal specks like yourself," she taunted him, her smiling face now upside-down as she leered over his struggling grimace.

"Open." The enthralled man growled at him while hovering the jug just over the Hunter's defiantly sealed lips.

She continued to smugly muse aloud. "A demon does have her pride, after all."

The man squeezed and squeezed harder against his throat, while the slayer found himself scarce of options.

Except the obvious.

"Ugh!" A knee directly between the legs, stunning the man.

And then a forearm to the face that sent him staggering, forcing a separation from the two but not without consequence.

The glass spilled over to the floor as the bartender let out a great sigh of disappointment.

Now standing the slayer regained his bearings as the man righted himself mid-stumble and went for his gun.

Click.

Click.

Bang!

The Hunter shot first, the swift bark of a bullet shooting through the air commanding the attention of every inhabitant in sight.

In one trained hand, he expertly wielded a smaller revolver he pulled from an ankle holster, drawing it a splitsecond faster than his opponent.

His opponent who now cried and collapsed to the floor clutching at his shoulder.

It was a Derringer single-shot. Only one bullet in the chamber.

That's all he needed.

One round. One hit.

A nonlethal one, of course.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

"Another lesson I learned a long time ago, cow." Turning around, he holstered that weapon and retrieved his regular revolver from the counter.

With a casual confidence, he told her, "Always carry a spare."

She pursed her lips, obviously displeased with this new development.

Ignoring the man's anguished grunts and groans behind him, the Hunter continued their prior conversation. "We done playing games?"

Taking a breath, she finally came clean. "Fine. That little bitch has been encroaching on our territory anyways. You'd be doing us a great service sending her back to the abyss, handsome."

"I should send you with her," he growled.

"But only I know where she is, slayer. And a succubus is notoriously difficult to track through mere human means, aren't they? Especially this time of night-"

"I've done it before," he told her, reluctantly conceding, "But it takes time, and I don't have time. But I do have you."

"Mmmmm, that you do," she crooned. "Yes, I do know the whereabouts of the baby demon that you seek. And I'd be happy to divulge that location, if there's certain assurances in it for yours truly."

"Tell me where she is, and I'll leave to kill you another day. That's your assurance," he provided the terms.

She almost laughed. "Your negotiating skills need work, mister."

"I don't negotiate with demons; I slay them. I'm only postponing you so I can handle a more pressing matter," he pointed out.

"So then I have your word that after I tell you what I know you won't just take that pretty gun and put one right between my eyes, or..." Her finger teased down her neckline, stopping at the crease between her jutting breasts. "Right here?"

He was hardly tempted. "I'm a man of my word. You tell me where she is, and you'll live to see the sun rise on your godforsaken farm. At least for one more day."

"So...arrogant," she breathed, almost in awe of his confidence. "Oh, you really are the man for this job."

His patience had run thin. "Location. Now."

Crossing her arms, she finally confessed. "About three miles south of here, there's an old church. Built by the Spanish back when they were teaching the natives about the goodness of their God. For all the good that did them."

The Hunter took that in, lamenting a moment later, "Sounds about right."

"Blasphemous little whore, isn't she?" the barmaid purred at him. "Disrespecting the holy and righteous temple with her...perversions."

"You could talk," came his retort.

She only smirked. "Better run now, slayer. Why, she's probably halfway through her next meal by now. Maybe you could catch who she's having for dessert."

He narrowed his eyes. "If you're lying to me-"

"I have no reason to, handsome," the bartender explained herself. "She's been hoarding a great many of our potential livestock for some time now. Gorging herself on their weak, simple little bodies like the greedy slut she is. This is for your benefit just as much as it's for mine."

He raised an eyebrow. "If she's so bad for business, why haven't you sent one of your mules to kill her already?"

Predictably, she gave a great, guffawing laugh at that suggestion. "And risk having her cunt mother bring all kinds of vengeance back to my people? Come now darling, the kind of risk is far too great for the reward. No, that's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"Right." He scoffed at that, taking up his hat and then turning to leave.

"May you find the death you so crave, slayer. Hers, or yours," she called after him in a sinister swoon.

"Just hers," he answered her, walking through the shocked gathering of men who stepped aside to let him through.

Without looking back, he left the saloon...

"Hell of a ruckus you left in there."

... nearly passing by the lawman with the long rifle leaning against one of the wooden beams holding up the building.

Stopping, the Hunter tipped his hat at him in a small but significant gesture. "Deputy."

Cradling the weapon under his arm, the officer of the law inquired. "You didn't kill anybody in there, did you?"

"Didn't have to. She told me what I needed to know," the slayer said, stepping into the dirt once more.

"Alright, so where is this devil-woman then?" the law enforcement officer asked him.

"Out. The holstaur says she's holding up at the abandoned Catholic church down south."

"Holstaur? The hell kinda name is that?"

"She's a demon, too." Walking over to a nearby building, the Hunter patted the hide of his transportation. "Oh, I wouldn't recommend getting a drink there anytime soon."

And the horse would neigh back, its brown skin as thick as leather.

The lawman flicked his eyes at the saloon before turning back to the slayer, "She ain't the man-eating type, is she?"

"Worse." Bracing his boot against the stirrup on the side, he hoisted himself up and over the stallion in a swift mount.

"I'll have to take your word for it then."

Settling atop the saddle, he turned back to the deputy. "Give me about thirty minutes to handle this. Then tell the sheriff to send his men to get the bodies. Give them a proper burial."

"What about hers?"

"Burn it," was his blunt answer. "Then bury the ashes deep."

"Sure you don't want backup? I ain't a bad shot," the lawman offered.

"I work alone," came the Hunter's stoic reply.

Taking hold of the reins, he firmly pulled on them to prompt the horse into action.

Neighing softly, the stallion started slow but ultimately broke into a gallop.

"Goodspeed then, sir." The deputy watched the Hunter and his horse race through the town and into the wild unknown.

________________________________

She was young.

The younger ones were always the most careless.

Doesn't make them any less dangerous though.

A succubus that's been on this planet for only a century or two can end your existence just as easily as one can who's preyed on mankind for the last millennia.

"Come on!" He hastened his horse to go faster. And faster.

There was nothing but acres of flat desert ahead of them, and acres of flat desert behind them.

Decorating the terrain was a seemingly never-ending supply of tumbleweeds and occasional patches of tall grass.

The wind beat at his face, but it did not break his determined scowl.

For there would be nothing that would stop the Hunter from finishing the hunt.

Nothing natural or supernatural for that matter.

His horse shared a similar philosophy.

Beating its hooves against the hard ground, the majestic beast carried them both through the rough, unpaved frontier land.

Meter after meter, mile after mile...

"Slow." He gradually pulled on the reins, prompting the horse to trot at a more leisurely pace as they crested a sloping hill.

The cross of Christ was unmistakable from any distance.

Now at the peak, he could look down and see the rest of the building.

Standing out amongst the barren midwestern land, the church was once a beacon of sanctity and holy devotion.

But now, it was just four walls and a roof giving sanctuary to the most unholy creature that's ever tainted this earthly plane.

"I'll take it from here." The Hunter dismounted from his faithful steed and touched down on the ground.

His past experiences with the succubi were...traumatic, to say the very least.

But in this line of work, trauma is necessary to harden the soul, and strengthen the body.

Out in the open, he allowed himself a moment to breathe.

To acknowledge the fear that's never left.

After all, this could be his last night alive. It could be.

But it won't be.

Reaching into the saddle pack, he pulled out a rifle from the side-holster.

Winchester.

There were many guns he possessed that could get the job done, but this gun he preferred more than most.

Hefting the walnut stock against his shoulder, the Hunter reached into his jacket and produced the ammunition to feed this particular beast.

One by one, he loaded bullets into the open chamber.

Not just any rounds, though.

With iron tipped caps, these bullets were specially made to kill anything of the demonic variety.

Eventually, he filled the cartridge capacity.

From there, it was routine to double-check the rest of his arsenal.

His sidearm, check.

Knife, check.

Second sidearm, check.

Reaching back into the pack, he pulled out a circular canteen and tucked it inside his jacket too.

Now he was ready.

"I'll be back," he told his horse, who merely grunted in acknowledgment.

After all, he'd said it enough times, the stallion apparently learned to take his word for it.

Patting the animal lightly on the snout, he marched forward downhill.

Working the action on the lever to load a fresh round into the chamber, he stalked towards the church resolved and ready.

No hesitation. No deliberation.

He knew what he had to do.

The manner of monster girl inside the building was hardly a deterrent to his drive.

Lamias, harpies, nymphs, he's killed them all.

The formula may change depending on the occasion, but in the end, the result is always the same.

Some of them went down easy, but most usually put up a fight.

He expected no less from this hellspawn.

Going up the wooden steps of the entrance, veteran experience dictated he moved with caution and so he did.

Silently and swiftly, he came up to the double doors that led inside.

Leaning against the frame, he pressed one ear against the painted wood, and listened.

Instantly, he heard a sound.

Unfortunately, it was one he was more than accustomed to hearing.

Squeezing the door handle, he took a deep breath...

"Here we go."

... and entered.

Bringing in the moonlight with him, the Hunter stepped foot inside the church to see (and smell) the two things that always followed in the wake of the succubus.

Sex and death.

His rifle was up and ready as he did an initial sweep of the vicinity with the weapon.

On his left and on his right, there were rows of pews. Dusted, cobwebbed pews that hadn't been filled in some time.

At least not by the living.

For as the Hunter advanced further inwards, he saw that they were indeed occupied.

In either direction, he saw the deceased corpses of the condemned.

Sitting and slumped up together on the wooden benches, they were all dried and drained husks with lifeless eyes and ghastly smiles.

Naked but for scraps of clothing here and there, their penises were still out, flaccid and blackened from exposure to the elements.

He'd seen this before too many times.

"Ohhhhhh...."

Heard that too many times before.

Remaining vigilant with the rifle, he moved through the pews to see what the congregation of corpses were all looking at.

There was a man laying at the altar, and then there was what appeared to be a woman on top of him.

He seemed a good stone's throw away from death, and she unsurprisingly was the cause of it.

Straddling the writhing, withered man whose once physique was a literal shell of what once was, she was beauty personified.

Bare-bodied and beautiful as an angel, she was a slender, sexual masterpiece in motion.

Her skin pale white and hair as black as a raven, she rocked her hips and grinded her chest against his while 'exhibiting' her hellcraft to the captive audience.

The obvious observation was that he was still inside of her.

Breasts full and plump as they rubbed against his bare sternum, she squeezed and slammed and ultimately sucked at his manhood as it throbbed for God's mercy between her shapely thighs.

A cruel irony given where they were.

The naked man was panting underneath as she rode his erect pole.

Not panting for breath but panting for life.

Lastly, the Hunter noted her wings and tail.

The greatest indication of age was the mere appearance of the former and the length of the latter.

Her wings, shaped like bats, were not quite fully developed, but were visibly unfurled against the shoulderblades.

And her tail, protruding naturally from the tailbone, had curled around his trembling leg with its tip ending in an arrow-shaped spade made of flesh.

She was indeed a lesser of her species.

And she was now staring right at him.

With eyes that enthralled with a bottomless pitch black to them, the demonic being seemingly now acknowledged his presence.

"Mmmmm, howdy," she purred with a voice that sang a relaxing euphoria into both his ears.

She spoke with the southern twang of the locals, a subtle pick-up to blend in with the general populace.

His grip on the gun did not loosen.

Peeling off the man's chest with breasts that defied the feminine frame, she grinned at him so brightly it could light up a mine shaft.

She had small horns curling from the forehead, barely an inch long but still, yet another reminder of her inhumanity.

Licking her lips with a long tongue that was forked at the end, she spoke to him with seductive confidence, "Come to confess your sins?"

"No." And then he pressed the trigger.

The rifle barked in its hands, hitting its busty, beautiful target right in the upper body.

Shrieking out in an otherworldly cry that reflected her true nature, the bullet swiftly knocked her off the man.

In an instant, she was writhing and growling like a wounded animal, both hands clutching at her shoulder.

"I came to cleanse yours." He pushed the lever down and then back up, loading a fresh round in the chamber.

"You hurt me," she wailed, in complete disbelief.

"Gonna do more than that." Bracing the stock against his shoulder, he fired again.

"Ahhh!!" A sharp cry rang out as another round slammed into her unholy body.

Hot metal met even hotter flesh once again, forcing out a cry that was caught between pleasure and pain at the same time.

Nothing he'd not heard before.

Racking the lever again, he fired-

"Shit!" But missed as she suddenly dashed in front of him in a pale blur of motion.

One hand grabbed the muzzle of his gun the exact splitsecond his finger squeezed the trigger again, knocking it away to cause the bullet to pierce the nearby wall instead.

She was now standing in front of him, the gunshot wound on her shoulder blotching otherwise perfect and pristine skin.

"That wasn't very nice," she growled, grabbing him by the throat with the other hand.

Grimacing, he went for his sidearm only to yell out as she hurled him backwards with just the one arm.

Launched through the air, the Hunter landed on his shoulders and slid across the floor until finally coming to a stop, his hat falling off in the process.

Instinctively, he went for his rifle...which wasn't in his hand.

"Such a crude weapon." It was in hers.

Retaining control over the Winchester repeater, she 'admired' the firearm with those abyssal pools she called eyes.

"Mother says you man-things once fought with honor. Guess not anymore, huh?" she pouted, throwing it aside.

Pushing off the ground, he got to his feet, meeting her devilish gaze with a determined glare of his own.

Her initial chagrin soon melted as she cocked one hip to the side and whipped her hair back over one shoulder, a perfect pose for the perfect 'woman'.

She was naked as all can be, and he didn't give a damn.

Her bare feet sauntered down the steps that led up to the elevated platform, bringing her down to his level.

Man to monster.

"Why you trying to hurt me, stranger? I ain't done anything to you," she said, so sweet and so innocent yet so manipulative all at once.

"You're here. That's reason enough," he replied matter-of-factly, his right hand inching towards the revolver.

"How'd you know I was here anyways?" the lesser succubus cooed, stretching her toned arms out.

"I'm good at my job," he answered her, keeping some cards to himself.

The demon snickered, "If that was true, you woulda found me a long time ago."

"I was busy killing other abominations. Now, you got my full attention," he stated stoically, marking his next target in his head.

She smirked back, "Well, I will admit you have some lousy timing, stranger. Mighty rude of you to interrupt a lady while she's enjoying a fine meal and not even have the decency to introduce yourself first."

"You want my name, tell me yours first," he retorted.

"...oh, you are good." She paced some to the left, and he followed her cautiously. Carefully.

His thumb on the handle, he didn't take her eyes off her. Not for a second.

"I almost fell for it, too. You tried that before, haven't you?" she teased him.

He declined to reply.

Clicking her lips, she continued her initial assessment of him, "Man of few words, I admire that."

"You're gonna admire the next bullet I put in you," he snarled.

"Oh, so angry. You got something against me, don't you stranger? Let me guess, one of my sisters took someone from you once, right? Someone you cared about?" she prodded, possibly picking up on something.

He remained stoic.

She grinned even wider, the malevolent curl of her lips stretching beyond what was humanly possible. "And now, you're on this vendetta to kill pretty little things like me, right?"

"You've killed innocent people," he reminded her.