The demon huntress (unedited)

Let the hunt begin

"𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓼, 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹"
_𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓷𝔃 𝓚𝓪𝓯𝓴𝓪, 𝓛𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮

It was nearly midnight when I was standing very still in the dark, My short black hair ruffled by the wind, while watching a man stop his fancy black car slowly and roll down the window to talk to a young girl standing in the cold. It wasn't something new to see a sex worker going with a man in the middle of the night, of course, if he was really a man.

I put my hand on the black dagger in my trench coat pocket to seek some comfort. I know tonight will not be a pleasant one.

"The car number is 9657, the current case is a level 3 possession, only one devil, I don't need backup, I will do it myself," I whispered, knowing that Tamara would hear me through the earbuds. "Layla Samir, what the hell is wrong with you? I told you not to follow him alone. He has killed 10 girls till now, and that is before even being possessed by a devil. Do you really want to make a mess like last time?"

I ignored her. I knew that working with friends would be hard. She wants to protect me, and I want that rush of adrenaline and the taste of devil's blood. I just can't stop the urge. I walked to the motorcycle and swayed my legs in a hurry. This needs to be done tonight before 1 am. I have classes tomorrow and will not fail another semester because of a damn horny devil.

"Layla fucken Samir, did you not hear me say NOOO, level 3 is very dangerous? Case control workers haven't even finished clearing the mess you made last time."

Her sound was distorted by the sound of air rushing through my body while I raced behind him, leaving just enough distance not to be caught. "Okay, Tamara, don't fuss, and don't call my work a mess; it was a masterpiece," I said, and a tingle of a smile crept to my mouth when I remembered what happened last week. Oh, how sweet killing that child rapist was.

"Layla, You left his guts open and cut off his penis; that is not art; that's fucking crazy. The police would track you one day if you keep killing them like that. It should be neat and clean; it's the rules. You really will get us into big trouble one of those days"!

Oh, I love Tamara, she is my best friend and the sun to my darkness, but sometimes she just makes me wonder how a good girl like her could ever have been recruited by the circle.

Suddenly, the dark streets began to change when we drove past the main road and entered the fancy district of Nevermoria, God, I hate this area; it reeks with a demon scent like rotten flesh left on a summer day to fester.

I wrinkled my nose and stopped the motorcycle; it would be easier to track him down on foot, the motorcycle will be too loud for this cold silent. "Listen, Tamara, I have to go now. Wish me luck. I'll try not to tear him open." I hung up before she began to yell at me again. I blended with the shadows and started running after the speeding car. I looked at the tattoo on my arms, The circle on my pale flesh glowed, and lines of dark ink started to appear as if an invisible knife was cutting through my flesh. When I read the words for the hundredth time, I smiled wickedly, I whispered the poem through the cold night air to let the power of the circle rush through my veins too.

In the shadows of Mount Doom

Devils and demons will always loom.

I am the lonely knight of the dark.

Standing where the sun would never spark

In the night, my watch shall never end,

In the night, let the hunt begin.

I felt the power humming through my veins, my eyes sharpened, and I felt my vision become more of a red hue. All the sounds were more focused and loud than ever, the adrenaline made my veins throb, and my legs were faster even than the motorcycle.

The car stopped suddenly in front of a white marble manor house. I rolled my eyes in the dark. Of course, it's white and minimalistic, like no soul lived in it. They call it visual detox. I call it the devil's rebel against human art. I reached for my dagger and pulled it; its glint was bright in the dark, with a red glow coming from its edges.

The girl came out of the car in the man's arms. I can see her clearly now after the power of the circle sharpened my vision. She is not more than 15 years old, young, and smells of sweat and life, while the large man with brown hair and big muscles looks at her with a thirst I know too well by now, he is going to rip her soul and devour it all. He smiled a smile that made my spine shiver. A level 3 devil is not as strong as a level four or five devil, of course, and those devils of level six no one had seen them for over one thousand years as the records go, but still, you can't help but feel the tension in your body when you see a level 3 devil. They are strong, sharp, and thirsty for blood. Even humans can feel a shiver around them, even though they are drowning in their charm. That's why I can see the girl smiling foolishly as the man swept her inside. I took a breath and followed.

I waited for a couple of minutes before climbing the outer pipes like a cat and sliding through an open window. I don't like going through doors; it really takes the fun out of it. I wrinkled my nose. There was a new smell in the air. It's the smell of blood and fear. Good, fear means she is still alive. Not that I should care; the roles are clear: we don't meddle with humans; we don't kill them until they become possessed; and we don't save their lives either. These are the rules that every one of the circle members has known since day one, and although I break many other rules, I don't break this one. Humans are more trouble than they are worth.

The muffled sounds coming from a room at the far end of the corridor broke through my ears. I could smell the despair through the walls. A dark laugh that made my stomach lurch erupted: "Oh, sweetheart, beg me more. I always love it when you whores beg. I'm going to let my hellhounds fuck you before I skin you alive." I stepped forward a bit to see a large black shadow and a short, huge shadow beside it.

Shit blood hounds, that indeed wasn't in the target report; he was supposed to be alone, and it was supposed to be an easy task before my favorite TV show started. God, it's going to be a long night.