Page 25 of The Sins That Bleed

Démon Slayer

VALESKA

H unting is instinctual to me, that’s why I don’t even have to think before I’m sprinting through the alley.

This motherfucker has been a slippery bastard, but there’s no escaping me now. He’s been on my hitlist since I first met Sunny, and I’m going to ensure he gets the full treatment from me. You don’t fuck with my best friend and get away with it.

He’s drunk, the stench of his blood putrid to my sensitive sense of smell as it mixes with his sharp and tangy body odour. It swirls with the dank air of the dark alley, covered in garbage and other people’s bodily fluids.

A fitting environment for a sewer rat like him, who thrives off the dark underbelly of this city.

My senses alert me that he’s not alone. I hadn’t immediately picked up on it thanks to his smell coating everything in a thick, slimy film.

I take a deep inhale and that’s when the scent of adrenaline slams into me, whoever is with him doesn’t want to be.

Looks like the vile prick hasn’t changed a single bit.

Tearing him apart slowly is going to be so much fun.

I’m close enough to hear him slurring his words. “You’re going to lift up that skirt and let me shove my dick into that tight pussy of yours, and if you scream, I’ll slit your throat.”

Like fuck he will.

“I suggest you unhand the lady if you know what’s good for you.”

My hand snaps out, snatching the knife from his loose grip, the handle slick from his overly sweaty palm.

I have him pinned to the wall by his throat, his own dagger now nicking the skin of his neck from where the tip rests under his scruffy jaw.

The smell wafting from him is enough to turn my stomach.

I won’t be drinking blood from this rat tonight.

He claws at my hand, his feet kicking at me and the wall trying to find purchase as he dangles over the ground. I squeeze harder, my sharp nails drawing blood and I smile at the way his eyes bulge. I’ve got big plans for him tonight, but I can’t do it with a witness.

I turn back to the woman who had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting this motherfucker. I could easily enter her mind and alter this part of her night from her memory, making it hazy, but I’ve always hated taking things from those who have a choice.

“What’s your name?” My words are calm, at complete odds with my actions.

I don’t even pretend to struggle holding this bulbous man up.

Here eyes flick to his and back to mine as she considers answering me, but she must realise he’s not going anywhere. I’m not hiding my red eyes from her like I usually would, like I do with Rai. If she’s scared, she gives no indication of it.

“Lorelai.”

She states her name without a tremble and I already know I like this woman.

I study her for a moment, her white hair coiled in tight ringlets down to her hips.

She’s celestial, a real-life goddess before me with her deep skin and dark brown eyes, her heartbeat the only reason I haven’t suspected her a vampire with that kind of beauty.

She’s more than human, but I’m struggling to put my finger on it.

“Lorelai, it’s a shame to meet you under such circumstances, but a pleasure all the same.”

I squeeze the neck of my victim until he stops flailing, passing out from the lack of oxygen as I let him go. His body crumples to the floor in a heap but I’m not looking at him as I tuck his knife into the back pocket of my black cargo pants.

I wipe my hands on them to clean off the filth of the human that’s now unconscious by my feet before holding it out to her. She eyes my hand up before slipping hers in and we shake.

“I’m Valeska, or Lilith, depending on who I’m talking to.” My lips tip up as I put my hands on my hips and let out a sigh. “I’m going to give you some options, Lorelai, I can make you forget this moment in the alley ever happened, or let you remember?—”

“What’s the catch?” She cuts me off and crosses her arms.

Yeah, I like her alright.

I smirk at her directness and the fact she hasn’t batted an eyelid at the wrongness of me, or that I took this man out so easily. Didn’t even question me altering her mind. My curiosity claws at me but I’ll have to explore that another time.

“Clever woman, the catch is a mutually beneficial one.”

She tilts her head slightly as she considers me. “I’m listening.”

“Come work for me. If you choose to, I won’t make you forget and you’ll be put in some difficult positions, but you’d have access to information most people would dream of. You’ll be paid handsomely in return, of course.”

“What will the job entail?” I’ve piqued her curiosity.

“You’ll be undercover with one of my most trusted employees, getting information from the inside and helping me scrub this earth of sin and rot . One vicious man at a time.”

I can’t give her any more than that until she has agreed and signed the paperwork. Zyon is going to be so pissed at me for not sharing this part of the plan with him, but he’ll come around eventually.

She’s perfect for the job, nerves of steel are essential for this plan to work.

“I’m in.”

There’s no hesitation from her even though I’ve been cryptic. I’d berate her for being stupid, for being so trusting, but I don’t need to. I could see her soulful eyes calculating the offer as I spoke, her mind sharp. I need people like her on my team.

And who knows what power is thrumming underneath her skin?

They say curiosity killed the cat, but being immortal affords me more than nine lives so it’s worth the risk.

“We’ll have to sign a contract tonight; do you have any plans?” I’m yet to find out how she ended up out here with the motherfucker at my feet.

“Nope, free as a bird.” She smiles and it’s all teeth.

“I’ll call my driver. He can pick you up and take you to my office.” I move to pull my phone from my pocket, but her words stop me.

“No need, I’ll call a cab.”

She whips out a wallet, the cracked leather visible in the low lighting of the alley and opens it up. Staring back at me is the face of my victim on his drivers ID and I cackle. She was never in trouble tonight.

“As you wish.”

I give her the address to Latrotoxin tower and a passcode to get up to my office. She doesn’t act surprised by this news either. I want to get to know her story more than ever.

Hell, we might even become friends.

“What will you do with him?” She nods in the direction of the pile of human flesh that hasn’t moved.

“Oh, you know, make sure he gets to where he’s going.” Hell.

She quirks an eyebrow, reading the undercurrent in my tone before going to walk past me.

Her whisper stays with me long after she’s left the alley.

“Make him suffer.”

It would be my honour.

I stare at the man before me, bathed in his sins, etched into every line and pore of his flesh.

Louis Aubert, the original snatcher of humans that stole my Sunny, thought he can retire quietly. Not on my watch. I will take my time with him, peeling his skin from his bones and watching hm decay before my eyes.

It took me no time at all to carry him back to my car and stuff him inside, and not one person in the city stopped me. I altered the reality, the memory of me carrying an overweight and unconscious man over my shoulder changing to an illusion of us walking arm in arm as two lovers would.

I’m glad the memory is not mine; it’s enough to make me puke and I have nothing to purge.

I’m growing impatient as I wait for him to wake now that we are back in my concrete lair. I drum my sharp nails on the edge of the workbench I’m sitting on, keeping myself busy thinking of all the things I’m going to do to this démon tonight.

I’ve prepped the workbench with all my favourite instruments perfect for extracting the evil from a man.

Pliers, hack saw, an assortment of knives, hatchet, cable ties, pins—you name it, I’ve got it.

My eyes scan his festering body as he hangs from his wrists by a hook and chain embedded in the ceiling.

He looks like a crude, and frankly ugly, looking art instalment.

He’s still wearing his clothes, an ill-fitting suit adorned with wrinkles, his shirt half tucked in. It’s coated in stains of alcohol and doused in his wretched body odour; being in close proximity to him makes it immediately clear why Sunny has such an aversion to bad smells.

I’m going to annihilate him.

His groaning starts before his eyes flutter open, the bright lights of my underworld causing him to squint until they adjust. It takes a moment for his situation to register and then he’s thrashing, screaming at the top of his lungs. I grin maniacally at him.

This is the most entertaining part, watching them try so pathetically hard. I’ve considered getting a popcorn machine down here so I can truly revel, but I hate the pesky stuff sticking in my teeth.

I wouldn’t be scary if I had kernels wedged in my fangs.

He goes on and on, his voice going hoarse before he gives up, his entire body deflating of hope. Karma is a glorious motherfucker, and it’s a privilege for her to choose me to channel her power through, to be her vessel to mete out punishment.

“Who—”

I cut him off. “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you doing this? Blah blah blah, you bastards are all the same. Let me save you some breath since you’re going to need the last of yours.

Nothing you say or do will get you out of this position.

You will pay for every sin you’ve committed in your short life by my hands. I vow it.”

I hold them up to show him, my nails long and the tips sharp enough to cause damage.

He fights against his restraints but really, he’s fighting my words. The finality of his last moments of life and my promise ringing true, causing him to reject the notion. The rattling of the chains fills the space around us and I close my eyes to soak it in as I wait for him to quiet down.

“You should know, démon, I normally offer those of you who find yourself in this situation the chance to play a game, but tonight I’m in no mood and I’ve waited long enough.”

I drop from the bench, my combat boots hitting the ground with a thud. I stalk toward him and wait for his dread to ratchet up, enjoying the power I have over him. It starts as an ember before igniting into an inferno; the decaying scent of his terror making me wrinkle my nose.

This démon is rotten to the core.

The thought of touching him is enough to make me want to scrub myself clean, but that must wait. I close in on his pudgy body and reach out, gripping his shirt. He tries and fails to get as far away from me as possible, resorting to screwing his eyes shut and pretending this isn’t happening.

“Uh, uh, uh! Don’t close your eyes démon, the show is about to begin!”

His eyes fly open. Big mistake.

His scream ricochets around me, masking the squelch as I jab one long, wickedly sharp fingernail into his eye.

I pluck the orb from its socket. He wails in pain and I hold the gloopy ball up, still impaled on my red nail as blood and slop spill down it, the optic nerve still flopping like a wet fish out of water.

I giggle to myself as I admire it. “Such a shame that you didn’t get to see that!”

He sobs, the open socket where his eye should be now running red. I imagine it as him crying before fate herself, begging for forgiveness for all the wicked things he’s done in his life. It will never make up for the vile sins he’s committed.

I flick his eyeball off my nail and don’t bother watching as it rolls away on the dirty concrete floor.

“And now you’ve ruined my manicure, you’ll pay for that.” I sneer.

I rip his shirt open, the buttons popping in every direction and pinging across the concrete.

I shred the material and let it flutter to the floor in ribbons until his slick upper body is bare.

His blotchy red nose and protruding belly are clear indicators of his alcoholism, and I wonder when he started drinking to drown out the noise of his sins.

“There’s a part of you, démon, that has always known this day would come, hasn’t it? That’s why you’ve slowly been poisoning your body. I wonder what made you think it could ever outweigh the rotting corpse of your soul?”

My words hang in the air between us, limp like his body as he refuses to respond. It’s fine by me, I’m not looking for a conversation, so I rip the rest of his clothes from his body. The pieces lay scattered around like entrails, the scene a premonition of the future.

I ignore his nude body as I stalk back to my worktable and peruse my options.

As much as I want him to no longer exist in this world, it’ll be long before his life winks out.

My fingers run over the instruments before I settle on the pins, grasping the box and failing to resist the temptation of shaking them to hear them rattle.

I grin at the sound and pop the lid off, leaving it behind as I move to stand before him.

I pull a long thin pin from the box, the kind dressmakers use, and examine the sharp tip.

I plunge it into the skin on his arm and delight in the grunt he lets out, the pin is deep but thin enough to not cause much damage.

I stick them in him all over his arms and legs and over the tops of his shoulders, but I’m not satisfied so I shove the shiny metal into his belly button and watch as his whole body tries to contain his response.

Even I cringe at that one, as if I could feel it.

I stand back and admire my work, but something is missing. I peruse his body, coated in a thin layer of fresh sweat from the pain I’ve inflicted so far, tilting my head at different angles to figure it out.

My mouth splits into a wide grin and I’m a little sad he’s missing out by keeping his remaining eye shut. I bend at the waist, a pin prepped in my hand as I pierce the thin skin and it has the desired effect.

His entire body thrashes, his shouts and screams of “no” and “please” echoing in the room. This won’t do. I move to the wall behind him and tighten the chains holding his feet to minimise his movements.

Pleased that he can’t move as much, I get back to work, decorating his balls with a halo of pins. He’s crying now, but I ignore him as I make my art.

I’m just getting started.